Tentationem
by Dhani Harper
Summary: The chaplain befriends the newest surgeon at the 4077th, but quickly finds himself at odds with his feelings when the unexpected occurs. Mulcahy/OC
1. Chapter 1

Title: Tentationem

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Captain Jack Peterson (OC)

Rating: MA

Summary: The chaplain befriends the newest surgeon at the 4077th, but quickly finds himself at odds with his feelings when the unexpected occurs.

Author's Note: Based on the character portrayed by Rene Auberjonois from _MASH_ (1970), the original film production. Captain Jack Peterson bears no resemblance to either Captain Jack Sparrow or Captain Jack Harkness, unfortunately. The title is Latin for "Temptation".

I intentionally made some of what Hawkeye says reflect the Mainer-speak. I'll try to keep it to a mimimum so that you can actually understand what he's saying. As always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. –RW

* * *

><p>Captain Jack Peterson of New Harmony, Indiana stepped out of the jeep into the middle of chaos. Adjusting the revolver-black frame of his rectangular glasses, he surveyed the scene around him. Uniformed men and women were running about tending to wounded casualties who must have arrived mere moments before the captain himself. Nurses were shouting instructions at the orderlies, corpsmen and stretcher bearers were running to and fro, carrying people in through a door marked PRE-OP. Jack was briefly taken aback by the madness of it all and number of bodies covering the ground. Barely two months ago, Dr. Jack Peterson—a resident at an Indiana hospital—had been drafted by the U.S. Army and given his orders to report to a MASH unit in Uijeongbu, Korea. Captain Jack Peterson had landed in Korea less than 24 hours ago, and this was the first sign of the war that he had seen.<p>

Before Jack could think to move forward and assist the wounded soldiers, a man ran up to him, saluting. "You must be Captain Peterson, sir. I'm Staff Sergeant Vollmer. As you can see, we've just had casualties arrive. Colonel Blake is already in the OR, sir. I'm afraid we'll need you to start work immediately. I'll take your things to the surgeon's tent; it's the one labeled 'Swamp.'"

Jack opened his mouth to thank the staff sergeant, but Vollmer had already run off again. He moved towards the raging sea of people, not sure where to start.

"Doctor!" He heard a nurse calling out. He looked over to see a fountain of blood squirting up from a deep wound in a soldier's neck, indicating that the carotid artery was cut and exposed. The nurse was holding a piece of gauze against the wound in an attempt to stop the spray of blood. Whatever doctor she had been calling for didn't answer, so Jack quickly made his way over.

"What have you got, nurse?"

The woman looked at him curiously for a moment before giving him a brief rundown of the man's condition.

"Keep holding pressure to the neck wound and get him into the OR, stat. Get an arterial clamp on there to stop the blood flow. I'll be there as soon as I'm gowned and gloved."

"Yes, Doctor."

Jack wandered off towards the pre-op area, hoping he was headed in the right direction and collided with another man who was rushing out the door at the same time.

"Oh!" The other man exclaimed, reaching out to grasp Jack's arm in an attempt to keep them both from being knocked over. "I'm terribly sorry."

Jack noticed the purple cloth draped around the man's neck and immediately realized that he must be the camp's chaplain. "No harm, Father. Say though, would you mind to point me towards the wash basin? It's my first day here and I'm a bit lost."

"You must be the new talent," the priest said with a pleasant smile. "Come with me, I'll give you a quick tour."

"I'd appreciate it." Jack smiled back, following the other man as he turned back through the door.

"This is the pre-op ward—as you can see, we're pretty full up in here on patients waiting for surgery. The ones that can't wait go straight in, but the others are brought in here…as many as we can fit, anyways."

"Is it always this busy?"

"No, thank God. Fighting has picked up in the last day or so, so we're getting hit pretty hard with wounded." The priest motioned Jack on to an adjoining room. "Here's the scrub room. Clean scrubs are folded on the racks and arranged by size. Dirty scrubs go in this barrel. They'll gown and glove you in the OR, which is through that door."

Jack watched as the priest indicated the various points of interest, and nodded in understanding. "Thanks, I appreciate your help."

"That's what I'm here for," the priest smiled, then extended his hand. "Dago Red."

"Dago Red?" Jack asked with an intrigued laugh. "You'll have to tell me about that one. Captain Jack Peterson. "

"Nice to meet you, Jack. I'm sorry you have to start the minute you get to camp. If you need anything, just holler."

Jack watched the other man leave in as much of a flurry as he'd been in when the two had collided, then turned toward the large sink and quickly scrubbed up. Jack was no stranger to the OR, but he suddenly had the nerves of a first year med student. This was a mobile hospital, not a state-of-the-art facility, and he was the new kid in town. He had no idea what to expect once he crossed the threshold into the operating theater.

Taking a deep breath, Jack steadied his nerves and headed in to face his first round of wartime casualties.

If pre-op had been chaos, the OR was the doorstep to Hell. The floor was littered with bloody sponges, gauze and other materials, and the small room was jammed with people and archaic looking equipment. He took a quick look around, noting that every table but one seemed to have a surgeon already working, so he hurried over to the boy he'd seen outside. A nurse quickly gowned and gloved him as he looked down at the boy on the table, assessing what needed to be tended to after the neck wound.

"I don't think we've met, stranger," a voice carried over from the next table. "I'm Hawkeye Pierce."

"Jack Peterson. I just rolled in about five minutes ago."

"Ah, Captain Peterson!" Another voice came from behind him. "I'm Colonel Blake. I'm glad you found your way to the OR, we sure need an extra set of hands in here."

"Ever done meatball surgery before?" Hawkeye asked.

"Meatball surgery?"

"Yeah, that's what they call this… No time for fancy fixes; just get in, get out and get the next guy on the table."

"I guess this will be a first for me."

"Don't worry; you'll get used to it." Hawkeye promised, then continued the conversation as Jack set out to work on the kid. "Where are you bunking?"

"The Swamp?"

"Ah, good. I think you'll find our tent quite accommodating. Are you drinking man, sir? Do you like martinis?"

"I could do with a good martini now and again."

"Well, once we're clear of the OR, I'll introduce you to our still."

As Jack and the others worked through the never-ending parade of bodies, the conversation between the doctors carried on. Jack noted that Hawkeye seemed quite at ease in the OR, often tossing out quips and off-color jokes to the others. After several hours, Jack was beginning to wonder if there would ever be an end to the bodies rolling through. His fingers were cramped and his feet were aching. He could almost feel blisters forming from standing in one place for so long.

"How are you doing, Jack?" A soft voice asked from the head of the table and Jack glanced up into semi-familiar blue eyes peeking above a white surgical mask. The purple stole around the man's neck was the only indicator of who the man was.

"There is an end to this, right? I'm not going to be standing here the entire war, am I?"

Dago Red's eyes crinkled and Jack could tell the other man was smiling behind the mask. "I certainly hope not. We've just finished debriding the minor wounds in pre-op and prepping the others. I think there were about 3 waiting for surgery. Hopefully, unless another wave comes in, you'll get a break very soon."

"Thank God."

"Already have," Dago quipped with a small laugh. "Is there anything else I can do for you? I'm not very good with the instruments, but if you need an extra hand, I'll be glad to lend one of mine."

"Thanks, Father. I think I'm okay for the moment. You just gave me hope."

The priest smiled again, then wondered off and Jack refocused on his patient.

When the end finally came, Jack felt ready to collapse and wondered just how long he'd been in surgery. He'd lost count of how many patients he'd seen, and now knew exactly what Hawkeye Pierce had meant by 'meatball surgery.'

Changing out of his scrubs with the other doctors, Jack was reintroduced to Hawkeye and Colonel Blake, able to see their full faces now that none of them were hidden behind surgical masks. Hawkeye was tall and lean with blonde hair, much like Jack's, and steel blue eyes that were obscured by the tinted lenses of his glasses. To his left, another man roughly the same height and build, was pulling a scrub top off over his head. He had unruly black hair that matched his thick Fu Manchu and long sideburns.

"John McIntrye," the man said, chomping a piece of gum. "Call me Trapper."

"Howdy," another voice drawled as a hand appeared in front of him. "I'm Duke Forrest."

The southern boy was shorter than Jack and the other two doctors, but seemed to be clean-cut compared to his counterparts.

"How y'all likin' Korea?"

"I haven't seen too much of it," Jack answered. "But so far I'm not too impressed."

The others laughed and Hawkeye clapped him on the shoulder. "I believe I promised you a drink, sir. Would you care to imbibe with us?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

"Y'all talk real nice," Duke said as he, Jack, Hawkeye and Trapper headed outside. Night had fallen around the camp, and now Jack really did wonder how long they'd been in surgery. "Where y'all from?"

"Indiana. Little place called New Harmony."

"Another Yankee," Duke shook his head. "Figures. Trapper, Hawkeye and me comes from the east coast, but I'm the only one on the right side of the Mason-Dixon line."

"That's a matter of opinion," Trapper said. "I'm from Boston. Hawkeye's from Crapapple Cove in Maine."

"_Crab_apple, you Masshole." Hawkeye corrected, as he opened the door to the Swamp. Duke entered first, followed by Trapper, then Jack. "You can take Frank Burns' old bunk there. Hopefully it's been eradicated of whatever made him crack up over here. Shame you never met him; he was a jo-jeezly son of a howah."

"I'm sorry…a what?"

"A Howah." Hawkeye repeated. "You know…a loose lady."

"Oh!" Jack exclaimed, translating the thick Mainer accent to understand what Hawkeye had said. Between Trapper's Boston accent, Duke's southern drawl and Hawkeye's Mainer slang, Jack wasn't sure that he was going to be able to keep up in the conversations.

Picking up his bags, which had been placed on top of the bunk, Jack sat down on the old mattress. A set of sheets and blanket were folded at the end of the bed, but he didn't have the stamina at that moment to make up his bed. "I see now why you called it meatball surgery."

"It's a bit jarring the first few times," Hawkeye nodded, pouring out four martinis. "You picked up it well enough, though. Usually takes most guys a week to figure out this isn't the operating theater we're all useta. The army doesn't want you wasting time to fix a femoral artery, if it can't be fixed in five minutes, cut the leg."

"Yeah…" Duke drawled. "That's what gets me. You know you can save an arm or a leg, but when you got bodies waitin', you ain't got the time."

"We make some exceptions, though." Trapper added. "It's a judgment call sometimes, but don't push it. Henry'll be easy on you and let you get away with going slow, but you gotta keep up."

"Plus, we know where you sleep now, and if we have to cover your slack…" Hawkeye let the idle threat trail off as he handed a martini to Jack. "Here you are, sir. Finestkind."

"So, what'd you do in Indiana?" Duke asked, taking a large gulp of his own drink.

"I was in my last year of residency when they drafted me."

"Sounds 'bout right." Duke nodded.

"How long have the three of you been over here?" Jack asked.

"Five months." Trapper said, raising his hand half way in the air.

"Duke and I got here about a month and a half before Trapper. We're counting down the days to February when we get our orders to get out of this hellhole."

"You rats." Trapper commented.

"You've got Jack now," Hawkeye said, as if that was a consolation prize.

"You married? Kids?" Duke continued with the questioning. "Me, I got a wife and two girls. Plus a few girls over here, if you catch my drift."

The grin on Duke's face left no room for misinterpretation. Jack shook his head, "I'm not married; no kids either."

"Ah, you're a lucky man, friend." Hawkeye said, raising his glass. "Guilt-free fornication, no worries of your wife finding out about your overseas exploits."

"I take it you're married?" Jack asked.

"Ah-yuh, and two ankle biteahs to complete the ball-and-chain package."

"Same here," Trapper said, indicating a row of framed photos on the shelf above his bed. "Also with two brats."

Jack glanced up at the portraits of Trapper's wife and daughters and offered a smile. "Very nice."

There was a swift knock on the door before it swung open to admit Colonel Blake and the camp's chaplain, now only recognizable by the crosses on his lapels. The priest's eyes immediately went to Jack's and he gave a warm smile as Henry spoke. "I thought I'd come by and make sure you were getting settled in alright. This is our Catholic chaplain, Father Mulcahy, whose tent is just right across the way from here on the end if you need matters of a spiritual nature. My tent is next to the main office, you can't miss it. You'll be taking over Major Burns' shift from 7am to 7pm, but when we've got days like this…well, let's just say you'll have more work than you can ask for."

"Or want." Trapper added.

"Care for a drink, Henry?" Hawkeye asked.

"Oh, no, I've got…work to do."

"Mmhm." Duke muttered knowingly behind the rim of his glass. Henry cast a quick glare in his direction.

"Anyhow, if you've got any questions, feel free to ask. You've met Vollmer, of course. Radar O'Reilly is my company clerk, you'll get to know him quick enough."

"Where is Radar?" Hawkeye asked, having just realized he hadn't seen the boy all day.

"I sent him up to Seoul to pick up a package from HQ. I didn't want to take a chance of it getting lost in a supply raid."

"But you'll take the chance of it getting kifed off one lone kid in a jeep in the middle of a warzone. Good thinking, Henry."

"Can it, Pierce. " Blake grouched. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my tent."

The chaplain stepped aside to let the colonel out and Hawkeye turned his attention on him. "Hows about you, Dago? Care to join us?"

"Oh, sure. But, just a taste, please. I'm praying later."

The three other men laughed gently as if the chaplain had been kidding and Jack watched the man sit on the edge of Hawkeye's bunk next to the surgeon, who poured him a drink and passed it over. Dago Red, Jacked noted, was shorter than himself, probably standing somewhere around 5'10, maybe 5'11, and in the neighborhood of 175 pounds. He had thick reddish brown hair that seemed to naturally part just shy of his right temple and toppled over just above his brow. He was a mildly handsome man, Jack thought, and had a gentle, approachable air about him. His olive drab fatigues seemed a size too large on his frame, and Jack noticed that the priest had either intentionally or unintentionally trapped a section of the fine-link chain bearing his cross behind one his shirt buttons.

"I'm glad to see you survived your first day," the chaplain was saying, drawing Jack's gaze up from the middle of the man's torso. "I don't think anyone ever appreciates the phrase 'thrown to the wolves' until they've had a run in the OR here."

"Amen." Duke said from his bunk, lifting his glass towards the priest.

"I'm just glad you said this isn't an everyday thing," Jack said with a soft smile.

"Nah," Duke chimed in again. "If it was, we'd all be buckin' for a Section 8."

"So, Father—"

"Call him Dago," Hawkeye interrupted. "The rest of us do. I think he prefers it."

"I don't prefer it," Dago argued evenly, looking at Hawkeye. "I'm just used to it; and it's fewer syllables."

Hawkeye grinned at him.

"Where did you come up with the nickname?" Jack asked.

"Oh," Mulcahy laughed, then indicated his head in the direction of the three other doctors. "These guys christened me 'Dago Red' in appreciation for my attempt to befriend them."

"How's that?"

"Dago was here before any of us," Trapper supplied. "Anytime someone new comes alone, he makes it his business to get to know them."

"Yah, so watch out. He's actually got an ulterior motive for sitting here with us now." Hawkeye warned.

"That's not entirely true," Dago argued again. "I enjoy your company as well."

Hawkeye waved him off as he continued Trapper's tale. "When Duke and I first got here, we kind of snubbed Dago a bit because I'm not religious in any sense of the word and Duke's not a fan of…"

"Bead jigglers." Duke supplied as Hawkeye struggled for a polite description of Catholics.

"Ah-yuh…well, long story short, the three of us never really had much need to speak since he knew where we stood religiously—"

"You intimidated me." Dago admitted, looking down at his drink as Hawkeye told the tale. "I thought at the very least we could be friendly, but you two were just plain cruel at times."

"Which we've since apologized for," Hawkeye pointed out in a tone that suggested they'd had this conversation before. Jack found himself wondering how the doctors had been cruel to the priest, but continued to listen as Dago picked up the story.

"It wasn't until shortly after Trapper's arrival that Hawkeye lost his first patient. We'd lost boys before, but he'd never been the one working on them. The loss really hit him hard, and that's when I decided that I had to do everything in my power as chaplain to offer some sort of comfort to him."

"I remember when you came in here asking if there was anything you could do; Hawkeye took one look at you and told you that unless you had a bottle of whiskey, to get the hell out and don't let the door hit you in the ass." Trapper reflected, laughing. "We didn't think you'd actually come back."

"Yes, well, never underestimate a priest on a mission." Dago replied. "I didn't have any whiskey, but I did have some cognac that had been given to me, so I got it from my tent and brought it back over for a peace offering. I guess Hawkeye was impressed, or just placated, but he let me stay so long as I kept conversation away from religiosity."

"And on the condition that you continued drinking with us." Trapper added.

Hawkeye took back over. "We drank the whole bottle of cognac, the contents of the still, and some of Duke's Georgia moonshine. I wasn't done yet, but there wasn't a drop of alcohol left in the tent, so Dago went back to his tent and brought us a bottle of the wine he uses for mass—Dago Red wine. Before we polished off that bottle, Dago completely passed out."

"It's a miracle I didn't die from alcohol poisoning," Dago quipped.

"You could have stopped at any time," Hawkeye pointed out. "It's not my fault you didn't know when to quit. Besides, Trap and I made sure you were still breathing."

"Was that before or after you mummified me to the bunk with gauze?"

The three doctors erupted into laughter, practically falling over in hysterics as Jack watched the exchange, trying to imagine the scene in his mind.

"You should have seen it," Hawkeye said, wiping tears of mirth from his face. "We hung a sign out front that said 'See a Pickled Priest, 5¢.'"

"Henry was so mad at you three."

"And I wasn't even there!" Duke asserted.

"That's how I got my name, though. From then on, every time they saw me, they called me Dago Red. The rest of the camp caught onto it pretty quickly and now the only people who call me by any other name are Colonel Blake, Radar, and Vollmer."

"What would you prefer I call you?" Jack asked sincerely.

The chaplain smiled softly and shrugged. "Dago is fine. Like I said, I'm used to it."

Jack felt an immediate affinity for the chaplain and watched him take a drink of the dry martini as Duke started to talk about which nurses were open to a casual fling and which ones were strictly off limits. The priest quickly drained the rest of his glass and held it out to Hawkeye.

"That's my cue." He announced as he stood up. "Behave yourselves, boys. Jack, in case it hasn't been said, welcome to the Double Natural."

"See ya, Dago." Hawkeye gave a small wave, setting the used glass aside.

Duke continued on in his tutelage of nurse chasing, but Jack was only half-listening. He wished the priest had stayed longer, but didn't blame him for cutting bait. Jack had known subjects like women and marriage and sex would probably come up, but he hadn't expected it to be one of the first major conversations he'd had with his new tent-mates. He feigned a yawn, even though he was actually quite tired, and Hawkeye seemed to catch on to the discreet message and interrupted his friend.

"Let's save the art of skirt chasing for another day. Jack's looking a little low on moxie."

Though not quite sure what 'moxie' was, Jack nodded in agreement. "Yes, I'm sorry. It's been quite the day."

"We've all been there." Hawkeye told him. "The shower tent is at the edge of the camp, the officer's latrine is just right over there. If the sign on the shower says 'ladies only' feel free to ignore it. We do."

Jack laughed softly as Hawkeye grinned at him, then rifled through his bag for his shower kit and robe. As he left the tent, he could hear the others quietly assessing him.

"He seems like a good shat," Hawkeye said.

"Don't think he's going to be ornery, do ya?" Duke posed.

"Nah, he's just new." Trapper answered.

Jack laughed quietly at their idiosyncratic vernacular and headed for the showers. Peeling off the dress uniform that he'd been wearing when he'd arrived, he neatly folding it on the bench before he stepped under one of the spigots and washed away the long day. He brought to mind the various faces of the people he'd met, trying to recall their names and what information he knew about them. He laughed softly as he thought about Dago Red, the camp's Catholic priest. The man was really quite sweet, and obviously went out of his way to make people feel welcome. It was a shame that Hawkeye and the others had made it such an uphill battle for him to earn their respect and friendship, but there seemed to be no animosity on his part.

He was pleased to see that while this was a military establishment, regulations seemed to be pretty lax. Colonel Blake had been a strange character himself, having traded in his surgical scrubs for a bucket hat with fishing lures stuck through it. So far the only person who had been truly military had been the staff sergeant that had greeted him first upon his arrival.

Then there was Hawkeye Pierce, Trapper McIntyre, and Duke Forrest. Jack still wasn't sure how he felt about those three. They were friendly enough, but other than medicine, Jack wasn't entirely sure they would have much in common. That and the fact that he could only just understand what they were saying made him wonder how well they would all get along.

Finishing his shower, Jack toweled himself off and wrapped up in his terry-cloth robe before sliding his feet back into his boots. He supposed for his first real day in Korea that things had gone well, considering. He'd been nervous about working so close to the front lines, but the life of the camp seemed to be thriving without the fear of a stray bomb or bullets or Chinese invasion. Jack supposed that his own nervousness would subside after some time, but he drew comfort in knowing he'd made a few decent allies already.

As he headed out of the showers, Jack—again—collided with a solid body, and—again—a hand grasped his arm.

"Oh!" The familiar cry of surprise almost made Jack laugh out loud, and he couldn't help but grin at the chaplain.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"I should learn to watch where I'm going," Dago chuckled, releasing Jack's arm and taking a step back. "I see you found the shower tent. That's definitely an important landmark you wouldn't want to miss."

This time Jack did laugh. "I have a feeling someone would eventually help me find it."

"You're probably right." The chaplain chuckled, then added. "If you're hungry, there's probably still some warm food in the mess tent right over there. I can't imagine you've had much to eat all day."

"Thank you, I think I'll put on some proper attire and see what's on the menu."

"Don't get your hopes up." Dago advised. "The army's idea of 'gourmet' leaves a lot to be desired."

"Well, if you'd like to join me in bidding my appetite goodbye, I wouldn't oppose the company."

Dago laughed heartily. "I'd be more than happy to give your stomach the last rites."

Jack laughed with him and stepped aside so that the priest could enter the shower tent. "Shall I get us a table for two?"

"I'll be there." Dago nodded.

Jack went back to the Swamp, taking his time to change into everyday fatigues and make up his bed, knowing he had a little time before the priest would be done showering.

"Gotta date?" Hawkeye asked as he observed Jack from his bunk. Trapper was snoring beneath his blanket, and Duke looked to be on the verge of sleep as well.

Jack contained the smile pulling at his lips. "If you call having dinner with the chaplain a date, then yes, I suppose I do. Care to join us? Apparently he's going to give my stomach last rites."

Hawkeye snorted a laugh. "Naw, I gave up eating a long time ago. Though, once you become useta the smell, it becomes _almost_ passable as food."

Jack finished making his bed and stowed his suitcase under the bunk after transferring his belongings to his footlocker, then decided to head out to meet the chaplain.

The mess tent was just what it sounded like—a tent with a lot of mess loosely called food. The heavy canvas ceiling was supported by three poles that ran the length of the tent and draped down so low in spots that Jack could feel it graze the top of his head. There was a long line of tables set up with trays and utensils, and a buffet-style banquet with servers ready to dish up whatever you wanted. Jack made his way down the line, picking and choosing between the items he could readily identify and opting against those he couldn't. There were only a handful of people sitting down to eat, so Jack chose a table in the middle of the tent, not wanting to appear anti-social, but not wishing to encroach on their conversations without being invited either.

Barely more than a minute after he'd sat down, he saw the chaplain enter the tent and discreetly watched the other man get a meager helping of food and pour himself some coffee before he came and sat across from Jack.

"Not brave enough to try the meat?" Dago asked with a slight smirk.

"Not without knowing what animal it came from."

That gained another hearty laugh.

"Sometimes it's better not to ask," the chaplain teased with a wink before bowing his head and crossing himself to quietly pray over his food. Jack watched him, admiring how devote he seemed to be in his faith.

"What made you decide to become an army chaplain?" Jack asked when the priest had raised his head again and picked up his utensils. "I assume you weren't drafted like the rest of us."

"I volunteered myself. I had spent a fair amount of time doing missionary work in China before the communists took it over and declared the People's Republic of China. With all of the civil wars and fighting, it became exceptionally dangerous for us to remain, but I refused to leave, believing that if there was ever a time when people needed to hear the word of God, the time of war was it."

"That's brave of you." Jack told him, listening with rapt interest.

"Well, brave or foolish…I haven't decided which yet." Dago admitted ruefully. "The Chinese government told us to leave or they would remove us by force. When I still refused, a general of the Chinese army threatened to skin me alive and nail my hide to the church. I figured that I would be more use to God alive than dead, so I ultimately left. By this time things were heating up between North and South Korea—the North Koreans being supported by Communist China, of course. I still had the same belief that the time of war was a good opportunity to spread the word of God, so I joined the army as a Chaplain. I didn't know I'd be sent to a MASH unit, but God has His reasons for bringing me here. It's been a challenge, but I've enjoyed it."

"I'm sure."

"Forgive me for being forward but…would you mind if I asked about your own faith?"

"Would you like an honest answer?"

"Of course."

Jack pushed his tray away enough to fold his arms on the tabletop as he looked at Dago thoughtfully. "I find organized religion on the whole to be a bit… narrow. I believe in God—or a higher power anyways—but with so many religions out there all claiming to be the right one, how can I be sure which one is _actually_ right?"

Dago, no stranger to this type of question, nodded gently. "That's a fair question."

When the priest didn't elaborate, Jack raised his eyebrows and gave a slight laugh. "Aren't you going to answer it?"

Dago thought for a moment, then smiled softly. "No."

"No?"

"Faith is a personal journey for every man. I can't tell you what to believe in."

Jack gave him an amused look. "I thought you were the spiritual leader of the camp?"

"Of course I am, but I'm also a practical man of God and don't believe in pushing off my beliefs on a person I've only just met." He paused for a second as he sprinkled salt on his food. "Besides, faith and religion are not necessarily interconnected."

"Oh? Care to enlighten me?" Jack asked with genuine interest.

"I studied world religions in seminary. Religion, by definition, is simply a fundamental set of beliefs and practices that are agreed upon by a number of people and are generally supported by societal norms and values; morals, if you will."

"Go on," Jack encouraged when the priest paused again.

"Well, by that definition, religions are all _fundamentally_ the same in that the doctrines attempt to explain why we are here and provide a moral and ethical framework. Most, but not all, religious texts support the existence of God—or Gods as the case may be—and establish rituals and guiding principles meant to help you connect to God and live a meaningful life."

"So, if they're all fundamentally the same, how can one claim to be the true path to God and the others false?"

"You have to understand that religion is a man-made concept, and it is never static. It changes and evolves and grows and splits and merges as more and more people try to understand and interpret the word of God. Look at this way; let's say I were to write down the letter A. Everyone who understands the English language and knows the alphabet can agree that it is the letter A. However, some people may say that I haven't written it down correctly, and they may write it another way—like serif and san serif fonts. A group of people who believe that _that_ letter A is the _right_ way would get together and form their own beliefs about the way the letter A should be written. The same is applied to religion. The words of the Bible have never changed, but the way it has been interpreted has. I may see a passage and glean a completely different meaning from it than you would. The conflict, however, comes in when I believe that I am right and you believe that you are right and neither of us are willing to accept the other as a possible alternative, or simply let the other person believe what they want to believe. It is that immovability in our beliefs that cause wars, or separation of churches, or mass genocide—and I'm only talking about the Christian religion!"

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"If you believe that all religions are fundamentally the same, why did you choose to follow Catholicism?"

"I was raised Catholic, for one. But, not only that, I have always believed that Jesus is the son of God and died for our sins, even after studying other religions. The term 'Catholic' comes from the Late Latin word catholicus, which is derived from the Greek adjective katholikos, which means universal. It was first used in the 2nd century to emphasize the scope of Christianity. It wasn't until later in the Cathechetical Discourses of St. Cyril of Jerusalem, that the 'Catholic Church' emerged as a way of identifying the church from other Christian sects. In 1054, there was a division of the church known as the East-West Schism in which the churches that remained in communion with the Pope referred to themselves as Catholic, while Eastern churches that rejected the Pope as the primal authority of the Church called themselves Orthodox, or Eastern Orthodox. The term Catholic is still in use to distinguish between the Church and the Protestant denominations that split off during the Reformation." Dago, seeming to realize he was rambling, stopped and gave a nervous laugh. "Sorry… Religion itself is a topic that truly fascinates me. I could go on about it forever."

Jack smiled reassuringly. "Don't apologize. I was interested in what you were saying."

Dago beamed in response, pleased that he hadn't put off the new surgeon with his ramblings, then speared several peas onto the tines of his fork. "So, tell me about yourself, Jack."

"Oh, there's not that much to tell, really. I was born and raised in New Harmony, Indiana. Attended Indiana University where I got my M.D. I was nearly at the end of my residency when I was drafted to come here."

"Yes," Dago said with sympathy. "That's the story of many of the boys here. It's a shame they had to enact the draft for this war, but it's a good thing people like you, Hawkeye and Trapper are here. Without you doctors, those boys in the OR wouldn't stand a chance. Colonel Blake and Captain Bandini are the only two surgeons who are regular army. Everyone else is a draftee. There was Major Burns, of course, but…well, obviously he's not with us anymore or you wouldn't be here."

"What happened to him anyways? Hawkeye mentioned him back in the Swamp. Said he went nuts over here."

"Unfortunately, Hawkeye is right. As for what exactly happened…well, I'm not sure any of us truly knows." Dago took a sip of his coffee.

"Was he the first one to lose it?"

"From this outfit, yes. There's certainly no shortage of people intentionally or unintentionally trying to get a dishonorable discharge, though. Honestly, for the longest time, I considered recommending Hawkeye Pierce for a Section 8."

"What'd they do to you? You mentioned earlier that they'd been quite cruel."

"Oh," Dago flushed slightly. "Just some things here and there. Probably the worst was when they kidnapped the chaplain from one of the neighboring units. Shaking Sammy is what they call him because he likes to shake people's hands and will just about shake your arm out of socket if you're not careful. He'd been visiting here and had gone through post-op to speak to some boys of his faith. There was one boy who was pretty bad off, but Sammy decided to write a letter home for the boy saying that he would be home soon and not to worry. The boy died the next day. Hawkeye was boiling mad and told Sammy if he ever came back here again that he'd make sure he didn't walk out of here. After that, the boys had a real vendetta against Sammy. When they kidnapped him, they brought him back here bound and gagged, stripped him down to his undershorts, and tied him to a cross they had made and erected in front of my tent. The next morning, when I went outside, the first thing I see is Sammy on the cross and Hawkeye, Duke and Trapper laid out on old mattresses underneath him. They were all just drunk as a skunk and when I asked what the hell they thought they were doing, they said that it was their gift to me. Apparently I had done a little Cross Action—that's what they call it when I come in and pray for a kid during surgery—and the kid pulled through, so they figured they owed me. When I told them to cut Sammy down, Hawkeye became damn near belligerent and started yelling about how Sammy was a menace and did more harm than good, and how he should be taught a lesson. Before I could argue, they doused Sammy in—what I thought—was gasoline, then threw a Molotov cocktail at him. I was certain the poor guy was about to be immolated, so I threw myself on the flaming bottle, only to find out that it was filled with water…same as the 'accelerant' they'd thrown all over him. The three of them thought it was an absolute riot, but Sammy was in hysterics. I've never seen Colonel Blake as angry as he was that day. The only reason he didn't send them all to Leavenworth was because I asked him not to."

"Why? After such a horrible prank, why would you spare them punishment?"

"Call me a sucker, but…well, I could kind of see where they were coming from. We were all upset with Sammy, even though his intentions were good. Whatever Hawkeye, Trapper and Duke may be…they're damn good doctors and we'd be truly lost without them."

"You seem to get along with them fairly well now." Jack observed.

"Believe me, it took a lot of effort and the worst hangover of my life to get this far with them."

They both laughed before Jack switched the topic. "So, Father Mulcahy…do you have a first name?"

Dago laughed softly. "I do; it's John."

"Ah ha. You know, I think I like that better than Dago Red. Not that Dago isn't an interesting moniker. Would you mind if I called you John…or is there some rule against calling a priest by his given name?"

Laughing again, the priest nodded. "I think that would be acceptable."

The two finished their dinner and Jack found himself yawning nearly uncontrollably. "Forgive me; I can't seem to stop yawning."

"I have that effect on people," Mulcahy teased.

"Oh, no. Not at all. I've enjoyed chatting with you."

"So have I. Everyone is friendly around here, but I think most people are afraid to talk to me."

"Well, judging by the conversations I've already been engaged in, I daresay that it wouldn't be your cup of tea anyways."

"Yes, you're right there."

"I suppose I ought to turn in." Jack said with another yawn. "Can I walk you home?"

"It should be the other way around. You're the one who's been here less than a day."

"Well, if you insist." Jack winked.

Dago smiled and stood, grabbing both of their trays and carrying them over to the stack of dirty untensils waiting to be washed. He thanked the servers who were still waiting around for any other latecomers, then followed Jack out into the night. Jack looked up at the stars and put his hands in his pockets.

"It's a nice night. I'm almost sorry to be going to bed so early."

"It's not that early," Dago murmured. "It's nearly 2300 hours."

"Gee…was I really in surgery _that_ long?"

Dago nodded as the two walked towards the Swamp. "Time tends to measure itself in bodies rather than passing hours around here. There have been days when we go into the OR in the early morning and don't come back out until the next morning. Were it not for exhaustion and aching feet, you'd swear time had stopped during surgery."

"That sounds disturbing."

"It is; but what's more disturbing is how normal that becomes after a while. The best advice I can offer you is to sleep when you can because you never know when there will be wounded. But, on the same token, find a hobby. Hours can seem like days if you find yourself with nothing to do."

"Sage advice." Jack smiled, stopping outside the door of the Swamp. "I guess this is me."

"Another word of advice," Dago said after a moment of consideration. "Sleep with one eye open. I wouldn't put it past Hawkeye and Trapper to 'initiate' you in some way."

Jack laughed and shook the priest's hand. "Thanks for the tip, John."

"Sleep well, Jack."

"You too." Jack watched the priest continue on to his tent, then quietly made his way inside the Swamp. His three tent-mates were all sacked out, so he stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and crawled under the blanket in his bunk.

As he closed his eyes and started drifting off to sleep, Jack reflected over this conversation with the priest. Mulcahy seemed like one of the few people he'd met thus far that he might actually get along while he was here. He was intelligent and witty and not obsessed with women and drinking like Pierce and the others. While Jack liked a good drink on occasion, he'd never been one for getting completely plastered; and women…well, they weren't exactly a priority either.

Jack sighed tiredly and turned on his side, smiling to himself. He always tried to find the silver lining in dismal situations. Apparently his silver lining in Korea was going to be a chaplain. _How ironic. _Jack thought with a rueful shake of his head before he succumb to slumber.

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Tentationem

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Captain Jack Peterson (OC)

Rating: MA

Summary: The chaplain befriends the newest surgeon at the 4077th, but quickly finds himself at odds with his feelings when the unexpected occurs.

Author's Note: Based on the character portrayed by Rene Auberjonois from _MASH_ (1970), the original film production. Captain Jack Peterson bears no resemblance to either Captain Jack Sparrow or Captain Jack Harkness, unfortunately. The title is Latin for "Temptation".

As always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. –RW

* * *

><p>When reveille sounded at 0600 the following morning, Jack nearly jumped out of his skin, grabbing his chest to keep his heart from leaping straight through as he shot up in the bed. He heard a sleepy chuckle come from Hawkeye's area and looked over to see the rumpled surgeon, grinning at him.<p>

"You get used to that, too." Hawkeye told him. "Half the time, we can all sleep right through it."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that." Jack said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before he reached for his glasses.

"You and Dago must have hit it off well; you were gone quite some time last night."

"Yeah, he seems like a nice guy."

"Ah-yah, Dago's pretty swell. I just wouldn't advise getting too close to him, you know? People might start to think you're another sky pilot like Frank was."

"Sky pilot?"

"You know…someone who's real into prayer and all that."

"Oh, well, there's no fear of that. I may believe in a higher power, but I don't go around talking to it or anything."

Hawkeye laughed slightly. "Good to know."

Jack climbed out of bed and dressed in his olive green fatigues, running a comb back through his short dark blonde locks to tame the professional cut. He headed off to use the latrine and brush his teeth before he finally ventured over to the mess tent for breakfast before his shift was scheduled to start. He was surprised to see Mulcahy, sitting at a table with an empty tray pushed to the side, reading from a small book and running a rosary between his fingers.

Getting a simple bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee, Jack contemplated whether or not he should bother the chaplain, but decided that, since he had made no other real friends, he didn't have too many options. He carefully walked up beside the priest, mindful not to be too distracting. "Mind if I join you?"

Dago looked up at Jack, surprised by the sudden presence, but smiled warmly. "Good morning, Jack. Please, feel free." He motioned Jack to sit across from him and closed his book before wrapping the strand of beads around his wrist.

"I didn't mean to interrupt…"

"Not at all," Dago continued to smile. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty good until that damn trumpet nearly gave me a heart attack."

Mulcahy laughed. "If you ever want to sleep in, get some ear plugs."

"Where was that advice last night?" Jack teased.

"Where's the fun if I tell you _everything?"_

Jack laughed slightly, then shifted the topic. "So, what were you doing just now?"

"Oh…" Dago looked down at the book in front of him. "Daily devotional and rosary prayer. The life of a Catholic priest…we live to pray."

"That must get boring."

"Repetitive," Dago nodded, conceding that fact. "But not boring. If it was, I should probably start looking for a new line of work."

"Speaking of your line of work," Jack said as he mixed a spoonful of sugar into his oatmeal. "I was warned not to get too friendly with you."

"Warned? By who?"

"Hawkeye Pierce."

Dago rolled his eyes. "I should have known. What was his reason for that?"

"He didn't want people thinking I was a 'sky pilot.'"

The chaplain sighed in resignation. "You know, I'm certain that God put me here for a reason. Sometimes I think that reason is Hawkeye Pierce. I've never met a more insufferable, yet charming human being."

Jack smirked around a bite of oatmeal. "Who knows. Maybe you'll end up making a believer out of him."

The chaplain laughed. "That would be a true miracle."

About that time, one of the nurses approached the chaplain, laying her hand on his shoulder as she leaned in close to his ear. "There's a boy in post-op asking to speak with you."

"I'll be right there, Leslie; thank you." Dago motioned to the man opposite him. "Have you met Captain Peterson? He just arrived in camp yesterday."

Jack recognized the nurse as the woman who had been with the first patient when he'd just arrived. "Not formally. Jack Peterson."

"Leslie Storch," the nurse smiled. "Nice to meet you."

Dago took another drink of his coffee and pocketed his book. "I guess I'll see you over in post-op if you're on duty this morning. I'll be making my own rounds there."

Jack gave a small laugh. "Where…uh…where is post-op? I think I missed that on yesterday's tour."

Dago laughed and pointed behind Jack across the compound. "See where the pre-op doors are? Go around to the side of the building and you'll see the doors for post-op. You can walk through from pre-op to the OR to post-op if you want, too."

"I have a feeling I'm going to be lost around here for a while."

The chaplain smiled. "Luckily it's a small camp. If you want, I'll give you the 'grand' tour later, though I think you've found most of the high points."

"Thanks, John. You've been a great help."

"My pleasure; truly." He smiled, then stood and followed the nurse out of the mess tent.

Jack quickly finished his breakfast, then made his way towards the post-operative ward. He had no idea what it meant to be 'on duty' and hoped that there would be someone to tell him what he needed to do.

When he arrived in post-op, there was a tall, lanky man with wayfarer glasses marking on a patient's chart. Jack knew from the white lab coat that he must be the night-shift doctor. He could hear murmuring from somewhere down the row of bodies and his eyes flicked over to where the chaplain was leaning in close to a wounded boy, doing whatever it was that chaplain's do. For a long moment, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the gentle expression on John's face.

"You the new doc?" The man in the white coat asked.

"Yeah, Captain Jack Peterson." Jack introduced himself, moving towards the man and shaking his hand.

"Captain Dennis Bandini. Some of the wisecrackers around here call me Band-Aid."

"Seems like everyone's got a nickname around here," Jack mused.

"Give it a week, they'll probably come up with one for you."

"Let's hope it's a good one."

"Don't count on it." Bandini chuckled. "So, did anyone tell you what to do on your shift?"

"Not a thing."

"I'm not surprised. We don't stand too much on ceremony around here. It's pretty simple, really. Do the rounds, check the patients, make sure the nurses are marking the meds right. If we get wounded, make sure you get your butt to the OR. Other than that, just try to keep them comfortable. And preferably alive."

"Sounds easy enough."

"Yup." Bandini handed over the clipboard for the patient in the bed before them. "I just finished the 6 o'clock rounds, so it's all yours. If you run into any trouble, there will be a few orderlies around—like Boone."

A scrawny teenage boy with large glasses had been passing by when Bandini put his arm around him and stopped him. Jack assumed that the kid must be Boone. The boy didn't look hardly old enough to be in the army, but didn't think much on it as Bandini let him continue on his way.

"Don't count on them too much, they've only got basic medical training—they know what a bandage is and where to find things, but that's about it. They'll do the supply checks to see what we're running low on, though, so that's nice."

Jack nodded. "Thanks for the tips."

"Sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a bed somewhere calling my name."

Jack looked around the ward as Bandini ducked out the door. There was hardly anything to do since rounds had already been completed, so Jack decided to read over the medical charts of the patients to see what kinds of casualties he had under his care. He had been so engrossed in reading charts that he hadn't noticed the chaplain slip up next to him.

"How's it going so far?"

Jack nearly jumped and dropped the clipboard he'd been holding. It clattered loudly to the floor and he cringed, bending down to pick it up at the same time the priest did. His hand landed on top of John's on the clipboard and he froze for a long moment, lifting his eyes to the other man's.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Dago said, not pulling his hand away from where it laid beneath Jack's.

Jack slowly pulled his hand back, and the two stood up as the chaplain passed the clipboard back to him. "It's alright; I guess I was too absorbed in what I was doing, I didn't realize you were there."

"I've been told I'm part feline," Dago quipped. "I tend to sneak up on a lot of people."

"Handy skill if you're planning on ambushing anyone."

The chaplain laughed. "So, other than being scared to death, how are you doing?"

"Good, I guess. I'll be making my first rounds in about an hour. Should be quite the show if you'd care to stick around."

"I would love to, honestly, but I give confessions from 10 to 1300 hours. I'll be glad to stop by afterwards, though."

"Don't trouble yourself. I'm sure there are better things to do than watch me bumble around."

"I haven't seen you bumble yet; I'd hate to miss the first bumble." The chaplain teased.

Jack laughed and shook his head. "Well I feel like I'm in way over my head here."

Dago laid a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder. "You'll get the hang of everything; I promise."

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" Jack ribbed.

"Only for good reason," he winked.

When the chaplain turned to head out the door, Jack stopped him. "Say, you know you keep buttoning up that cross of yours in your shirt right?"

Dago looked down the length of his torso as Jack reached out and hooked his finger through the length of chain, giving it a light tug. The chaplain smiled, laughing softly. "I quickly learned how easily it gets in the way. It can get pretty messy working over bleeding bodies. Now, if I lean forward, it pretty much stays put."

Jack laughed as Dago bent forward slightly to demonstrate. "Clever."

Dago smiled. "Have a good shift, Jack. I'll stop back by after confessions to see if you've lost your marbles yet."

Jack was still smiling when he started making his rounds. The more time he spent in the company of the chaplain, the more he knew came to like John Mulcahy. He wondered if the chaplain's chumminess was because he enjoyed Jack's company just as well, or if there had been some truth to Hawkeye's sentiment about the priest having an ulterior motive. He couldn't believe that might be the case. Mulcahy always seemed sincere in his friendliness towards Jack…but how much was just Jack seeing what he wanted to see?

It was a question that plagued him for the rest of the morning until 1 o'clock rolled around. When the priest didn't immediately present himself as he had said earlier, Jack felt almost convinced that maybe Hawkeye had been right. At ten after one, Jack was surprised and pleased when the chaplain came through the post-op doors. John smiled brightly as he crossed the room.

"You seem to be settling in quite well." Dago commented. "How's your first post-op shift going so far?"

"Not bad. Captain Bandini told me it would be pretty simple, and it has been."

"Good. Are you hungry? I'm sure I can convince Lorenzo to keep an eye on things while we eat."

"Lorenzo?"

"Oh, Private Boone; he's the young boy that—"

"Oh! Yes, I remember. I didn't catch his first name when we were introduced." Jack interrupted. "It's going to take me the rest of the war to figure out who everyone is."

Dago laughed. "Come with me, we'll kill two birds with one stone—have lunch and meet some of the other fellas."

Jack followed the priest, who politely asked the young orderly to hold down the fort and come get Jack or one of the other doctors at the first sign of trouble.

"Sure thing, Dago Red." Boone replied in a voice that seemed much too mature for the pip-squeakish kid.

Dago held the door to post-op open for Jack and together they walked towards the mess tent. As they went, the chaplain continued to point out what was what and whose tent was whose.

"Your tent is easy enough to spot," Jack quipped. "The cross on the door and sign that says 'Chaplain' are a nice subtly."

"Believe me, without it, few people would know."

Jack trailed after the priest into the mess tent, where he saw his three tent mates seated with several other men. A short, balding young man with large glasses and even larger ears came up to them.

"Hiya, Father. Is this the new surgeon? Gee, it's swell to meet you. I'm Corporal O'Reilly, but everyone here calls me Radar."

"Captain Jack Peterson," the two shook hands.

"If you need anything, just ask. I'm real good at trading things with other units. Last week I traded 4 bottles of hydrogen peroxide for a great movie. It had sound and everything! The nurses weren't too happy, though. Especially Major Houllihan. But it was a heck of a deal. Well, I've got to be going. See you around!"

Jack felt like his eyebrows had fused to his hairline as he watched Radar shuffle out of the mess tent. "He's an odd one, isn't he?"

"Oh, just wait. You haven't seen why we call him Radar yet." Dago clapped him lightly on the shoulder, urging him towards the food line. The two made their way through the buffet, filling their trays, then Jack followed the chaplain to the table where Hawkeye and the others were seated.

"Hey there, Losing Preacher, whatcha hear from the Pope?" Hawkeye greeted the chaplain before looking over at Jack. "How they goin', Hoosierkin?"

"Just fine, Hawkeye."

"This is Captain Jack Peterson," Dago announced to the rest of the group. "Major Burns' replacement."

"Hi, Jack. Walt Waldowski, D.D.S. They call me the Painless Pole or the Jawbreaker. If you need any work done, or you just want a good game of poker, you come over to my tent. We've always got something going on, doesn't matter what time it is."

"Tommy Murrhardt, nice to meet you."

The group went around the table introducing themselves until finally, all acquaintances had been met. Jack finally sat down next to the chaplain, feeling famished, and dug into the lunch on his tray.

Dago laughed quietly beside him. "You really must be hungry."

"I didn't realize what kind of appetite I'd worked up since breakfast." Jack said, flushing slightly.

"Amazing how that happens." Mulcahy replied with a gentle smile before bowing his head to pray.

Jack listened to the conversation around him, laughing appropriately at the gentle teasing between friends, answering questions as they were asked of him, and taking a fair amount of repartee himself. When he finished his food, he knew he'd have to get back to post-op, but he found himself somewhat dismayed that he and John hadn't had time to chat like they had the previous night and this morning. He knew he couldn't monopolize the chaplain's time, but so far, John Mulcahy was the only person Jack cared to get to know more personally.

"I guess I better be off," he announced to the group.

"See ya around, Jack Sprat." Hawkeye said with a short wave.

"I'll be around my tent later if you want to stop by." Dago said, his voice quiet to keep the others from listening in.

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

As Jack started to walk away, he could hear Hawkeye scolding the priest. "Stop coddling him, Dago. He doesn't need you holding his hand."

"I'm not coddling him, Hawkeye. I'm just being friendly."

"Overly friendly."

"How am I being overly friendly?"

Jack wanted to stay and listen to the conversation, but knew he'd be caught if he lingered, so he forced himself to keep walking. His mind again struggled against the thought that the priest was just being nice to him because he felt like he had to. He sighed and pushed through the door, heading back to finish the long shift in post-op.

* * *

><p>At precisely 1900 hours, Hawkeye Pierce sauntered through the post-op doors. "How they goin', Hoosierkin?"<p>

"Just fine, Hawkeye." Jack said with a sense of déjà vu.

"No one died on your first shift, that's a bonus, and definitely a step up from Frank's watch. Nice job."

"Yes, it's hard to keep the living alive." Jack said, somewhat dispassionately.

Hawkeye could sense the animosity. "Have I offended you in some way, sir?"

"You seem to have a problem with my being friends with the chaplain."

"What? Dago? I don't care if you want to be friends with him. I was just trying to warn you that if you want to get laid, being chummy with our resident Holy Man isn't the best way to win the girl's over."

"Did it occur to you that I may not be interested in winning over any girls?"

"No…I suppose it didn't."

"Listen, I like you guys just fine, but I'm not interested in chasing nurses. If it's alright with you, I'll leave that to you and the others."

"Fine by me, friend. I just assumed…you know, since the rest of us…"

"I'm not like the rest of you." Jack said before he thought better of it.

"Whaddya mean?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm just tired." Jack pushed the clipboard he was holding into Hawkeye's hand. "Good night, Hawkeye."

"Yeah…" Hawkeye said, a little dumbfounded. "'Night."

Jack rubbed his temple as he headed out of post-op into the fresh evening air. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He felt tense, but wasn't exactly sure why. He looked towards the chaplain's tent and saw the priest sitting out front with his nose stuck in a book, oblivious to the world around him. His feet seemed to automatically set off in that direction.

Watching the man discreetly as he approached, he could see John's hair being gently tousled by the breeze. The priest was chewing his thumbnail absentmindedly, and it wasn't until Jack's shadow crossed his field of vision that he looked up from the page he'd been reading. A smile stretched across Mulcahy's face and Jack felt his tension melt away.

"Hi, Jack."

Jack pushed a finger against the spine of the book, tilting it towards Dago until he could read the cover. "Candide? I thought Voltaire was on the Church's naughty list?"

The corner of John's lip turned up in a soft smirk and he marked his page before closing the book. "It's a good thing the Pope's not in Korea, then."

"You little devil," Jack grinned, shaking his head. "You're full of surprises, you know? You think for yourself, you read banned books, you get drunk on sacramental wine—"

"Accidentally drunk." Dago corrected.

"Naturally." Jack teased.

"Are you hungry? They just started serving dinner an hour ago."

"Sure, I could eat."

"I'll just toss this in my tent." Dago said, rising from his chair. Jack stepped out of his way and waited for the priest to go put his book inside before they headed towards the mess tent.

"Is it just me or is all that we do eat? Seems like every time I've seen you today, it's been over food."

Dago laughed. "I hadn't considered that, but yes, I suppose you're right. Unfortunately when we have wounded, the mess tent is the only place other than the OR that I see most of the doctors."

"You mean none of them come to see you in confession?"

Dago gave him a cynical look, "Please. I'm lucky if I see them at Sunday services, and usually they only come to the 'important ones' like Christmas and Easter. But, I don't take offense. As I told you, each man must find his own path to salvation. I can act as a moral and spiritual compass to help guide others, but it is not my duty to _make_ anyone believe."

"So besides visiting the wounded and giving confessions and coddling the newcomers like me—"

"I'm not coddling—" Dago started to argue then stopped, his face flushing slightly. "Oh…you overheard Hawkeye earlier, didn't you?"

Jack laughed at the priest's obvious embarrassment and nodded, but continued on. "What else do you do around here?"

"Well, whatever is needed of me, really. I assist with surgery when absolutely necessary, but that's my _least_ favorite task. I give services, obviously. Not only here, but to several other units that are close by and have Catholic personnel. I give the last rites for the wounded and assist with the transfer of bodies back to the states. I do provide some counseling of a non-spiritual nature, though I'm not a trained psychologist. There is an orphanage nearby that I visit regularly and have an on-going fund dedicated to. I'll be taking up collections for that soon, so if you feel compelled to give, the orphans would greatly appreciate it."

"It sounds like you're never off the clock."

"No, I suppose I'm not, but I have some downtime just the same as everyone else. I just choose to make it productive by visiting the orphans or reading or praying, or coddling newcomers."

Jack laughed at that last remark and seated himself across from Dago at their usual table. "Just so long as I don't monopolize your time."

"I wouldn't mind if you did." Dago said casually, before bowing his head to pray. Jack looked at him curiously, trying to decipher the offhanded comment for any hidden meaning, but before he could give it too much thought, Radar O'Reilly shouted loudly from the end of the table.

"Choppers!"

Half of the personnel in the mess tent was on their feet and rushing out the door, leaving Jack staring after them. "I don't hear anything."

"Wait for it," Dago said, rising from the bench. "_That's_ why we call him Radar. We must be getting pretty serious casualties if they're flying in this late. Choppers after the six o'clock is never a good omen."

By the time the two had made it out the tent, a bus full of casualties was pulling into camp and the whir of the chopper blades could be faintly heard. Jack was astounded that the young boy had heard something so faint over the din of everything going on in the mess tent.

"Where do I start?" He asked, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

"The bus," Dago pointed, seeing Duke and Trapper heading towards the chopper pad. "I've got to go up to the pad and help carry down stretchers."

Jack watched the priest turn and run off towards a wooden stairwell that ran up the side of flat hill where the choppers were landing. He knew he didn't have time to stay and watch, so he climbed the stairs of the bus and started assessing wounds moments before Hawkeye joined him.

"Didn't know you'd be pulling double duty your first week in, did you?"

"I'm starting to think that Burns character was onto something."

Hawkeye laughed heartily as the two worked in tandem assessing the wounded, with Hawkeye giving tips on how they categorized urgency and who should go in first. "When you can, always take the ones from the choppers in first—they're always priority one."

After all patients were assessed, the two doctors went to scrub in, then bellied up to their tables to begin work. Jack had worked on five patients before he looked at the clock hanging up on the wall. It was nearly midnight. His eyes felt gritty and his hands were starting to tremble from low blood sugar.

"Know any places that deliver this time of night?" He quipped to Hawkeye at the next table.

Hawkeye glanced up at him, seeming to understand, then looked passed Jack. "Hey, Dago, how many more we got waiting?"

"Just a few, nothing critical last I checked." Jack heard the priest say.

"Go take a break." Hawkeye told him without consulting Henry.

"Thanks." Jack replied, peeling off his gloves and heading outside. He debated going over to the mess tent to try and eat, but knew he shouldn't wander too far from the OR in case they needed him back. Sitting himself down on a stack of crates, Jack put his face in his hands and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so tired and dreaded the reveille call at 0600.

"Can I get you some coffee?" John's voice asked quietly.

Jack looked up to see the priest standing there. He thought about saying no, hating to trouble the other man by making him fetch his coffee, but thought better of it. "That would be nice, thank you."

The priest reached out and laid his hand on Jack's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he headed towards the mess tent. When he came back, Dago was carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and a tray in the other. He held it out to Jack. "You should eat something."

"Thanks, John."

"Sure," the chaplain murmured. "You sit out here and rest. I'll go see how things are coming along in the OR."

"I feel weak compared to everyone else."

"You're new," Dago said gently. "And you were on duty for 12 hours before the wounded arrived. Believe me, you're not the first to need a break after such a long stint; you certainly won't be the last."

Jack nodded and the priest headed back inside. He dug into the tray of food, feeling like a ravenous wolf, and gulped down the coffee, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat from the scalding liquid. When he'd finished eating, he felt infinitely better, but still exhausted. He knew it was unfair to leave the others with the rest of the wounded, so Jack gathered his remaining strength and headed back in.

The last patient ended up on his table and Hawkeye had just finished closing his own before he came around to assist. "You're doin' good for your second time in the OR. Trap'll be on-duty tomorrow, so you can sleep in."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Hawkeye waved him off. "We kind of rotate through personnel for shifts just because we don't have enough people to make a regular schedule, and when we get nights like this, having to pull another 12 hours can kill you. Duke and I generally do most of the night shifts, but Trapper and Bandini will alternate one day shift, one night shift. The day people are you and Murrhardt, but you may get asked to cover another shift just depending on what comes in that day."

"Sounds fair."

Knowing that he didn't have to be on-duty was a great relief and he prayed to whatever higher power was up there that they wouldn't get another round of wounded before he got some decent sleep. With Hawkeye's help, the last patient was off the table quickly and the surgeons retired to the scrub room to clean up, but as Jack and Hawkeye were washing their hands, Dago rushed in.

"Hawkeye, there's one going into shock in post-op."

"Damn…" Hawkeye muttered. "Never a dull moment. Whose was it?"

"Duke's, I think. Belly wound."

"Probably missed a bleeder. Tell them to get him back in the OR, I'll be there in a minute."

"Need help?"

"You're a glutton for punishment," Hawkeye grinned. "But if you're offering, I'm not turning you down."

Jack and Hawkeye went back in and spent another hour giving the kid enough blood to bring him out of the shocky state so they could operate safely. Jack noted that Dago hovered nearby throughout the entire procedure, waiting to be needed. He had to give the priest kudos, as everyone but a nurse and the gas-passer had abandoned ship the moment they were in the clear.

"There it is," Hawkeye finally said as he carefully picked through the kid's intestines, looking for the bleeder. Back of the kidney, no wonder Duke missed it. Give me the smallest 3/8 you can find and some catgut."

"I've got a 16," the nurse said, picking up the tiny needle with a pair of tweezers and carefully threading the catgut through the eye.

"Perfect."

Jack watched Hawkeye put a few stiches in the kidney. He admired Hawkeye's skill in the OR. He was fast, efficient and confident. Dago had been right—whatever Hawkeye lacked in morals, he was a damn good surgeon. They closed and sent the kid on his way back to post-op, then returned to the wash room.

Hawkeye headed back to the post-op ward to finish out his shift, while Dago waited around for Jack. Looking at his wristwatch, Jack saw that it was now nearing 3 am. He peered over at Dago curiously. "Do you ever sleep?"

"Sometimes," Dago laughed.

"What time do you wake up in the morning?"

"Generally around 5:30. It's more habit than anything else at this point."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Exhausted," he nodded. "But I don't work near as hard as you all do, so I can't complain."

"Hell if you don't." Jack argued. "You were in and out of the OR like it had a revolving door."

Dago laughed as they stepped out into the cool night air. The camp was dead around them as everyone had already found their bunks for the night. Without a second thought, Jack walked beside the chaplain as they headed for Dago's tent.

"Can I ask you something, John?"

"Sure."

"You've been very gracious and welcoming to me since I arrived yesterday, but…well…would you consider us friends?"

"I would," Dago nodded. "I have to be honest with you, there aren't very many people in camp that readily talk to me—I mean beyond saying hello. I think people are afraid that I quietly judge them or might start preaching to them, so they just steer clear. Don't get me wrong, they let me sit with them, they acknowledge I'm there, they tease me as they would anyone else, but very few people ever actually _talk_ to me like you have. It's…it's been really nice."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Jack said, then quickly added, "Not the part about people not talking to you; about us being friends. I have to admit that the things Hawkeye's said have kind of stuck with me and left me wondering if you were just being nice to me because you had to."

"No, of course not. Being chaplain does put me in a position of being, as you said, gracious and welcoming to people, but I don't just talk to people because I have to. I enjoy meeting new people, and I enjoy it even more when I seem to…click with people."

"Click?"

"Form a fast friendship." Dago revised. "It doesn't happen very often."

Jack smiled as they reached the chaplain's tent. "Well, as a friend _and_ a doctor, let me give you some advice."

Dago laughed. "Shoot."

"Stop getting up at 5:30."

Dago laughed again. "Good night, Jack."

"Goodnight, John."

* * *

><p>It was nearly noon before Jack woke up. He hadn't heard reveille at six, hadn't heard Trapper get up, hadn't heard Hawkeye come in after his shift. He felt rested…almost too rested. Hawkeye was sleeping, but other than the two of them, no one else was in the tent. Jack got up, gathered his shower things, and went to wash off the previous day. People were milling about the camp engaged in various activities. Jack couldn't help himself as he looked towards the chaplain's tent. There was a sign on the door that he could just barely make out as "Please Knock." Jack wondered if someone had stopped by for a confession, and found himself speculating what sorts of things people confessed to the priest.<p>

He showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, then went back to the Swamp to dress. Though hungry, Jack wondered if he should wait for Dago, since the other man had done the same for him twice the previous day. Grabbing up a book, Jack headed out to sit in one of the wooden chairs in front of the Swamp, enjoying the warm sun and cool breeze.

The nice weather and relaxation was apparently enough for Jack to nod off, because the next thing knew, a hand was lightly touching his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Dago looking down at him with a teasing smile.

"You should be careful falling asleep in the sun. It's easy to burn here—I speak from experience."

Jack chuckled tiredly. "I must have dozed off. What time is it?"

"About 1:45 or so. I had a session run a little longer than usual."

"Everything okay?"

"I hope." Dago said, then changed the subject. "I was just headed to the mess tent for lunch. Have you eaten?"

"No, I was waiting for you."

"That was thoughtful of you," Dago smiled.

"Just repaying the kindness," Jack winked. "Besides, wasn't it you who said that other than the OR, the mess tent is the only place you see us doctors?"

"Yes, I believe I did."

Jack went inside to put his book up, then headed over to the mess tent. As Dago sat across from him and bowed his head, Jack noticed that the priest looked tired. He waited for Dago to look back up before he spoke. "You woke up at 5:30 again, didn't you?"

"I'm telling you, it's automatic." Dago nodded.

"Did you go back to sleep?"

"For about an hour after breakfast, then I made my rounds and helped Trapper shuffle some of the patients around since post-op was pretty full. We were able to send some of the boys to Seoul, and some of the others with minor wounds could be sent back to their units, but we've still got a pretty full ward. After that I had to make myself available for confessions and whatnot."

"Sounds like it's been a busy morning for you."

"It has," Dago sighed. "How did you sleep?"

"Like a rock."

"I'm glad to hear it." Dago smiled.

"What do you have planned for the rest of the day?"

"Nothing really. I need to eventually start working on Sunday's message, but that's about it."

"It's Thursday." Jack arched an amused eyebrow.

"Believe me, sometimes it takes a while to think of an appropriate subject."

"How long have you been a priest?"

Dago laughed, "Long enough. That's the problem. I feel like I've given every sermon possible at least twice. I ran out of material a _long_ time ago."

"How old are you anyways?"

"How old do I look?"

"Mid-to-late thirties?"

Dago smiled and laughed softly, "I just turned 41 in March."

"Happy belated birthday. You certainly don't look 41."

"Thanks. I don't _feel_ 41." Dago paused in thought. "Except today. Today I feel 41."

Jack laughed.

"How old are you?"

"I'll be 30 in August."

"Oh, gosh…I just felt myself age." Dago said with a pained look.

Jack couldn't help but laugh. "It's only, what? 11 years difference?"

"Thanks for not putting it in terms of decades." The chaplain said with light sarcasm.

Jack smiled at him ruefully. The two ate and talked for some time before finally leaving the mess tent.

"I'd invite you to my tent to play a game of cards," Dago said. "But I don't think I'll be very good company."

"You should take your own advice and go get some rest." Jack suggested.

"I think I might." Dago nodded. "Usually I can't sleep in the middle of the day, but something tells me I probably won't have a problem today. If you don't see me out and about by 6:30, come wake me up or my sleep cycle will be all messed up."

Jack chuckled. "So I've gone from newcomer to friend to personal alarm clock?"

Dago eyed him for a minute, then shrugged. "You'll do."

They both laughed and Jack agreed to wake the priest if he overslept, then bid him farewell as they parted ways. Jack cast a glance towards Dago, smiling softly as he watched the other man cross the compound. Dago made a point of offering a smile and a nod to everyone he passed, and Jack wondered where the man found his positivity and optimism. Even when dog-tired, the chaplain had sat and talked to Jack, laughing and teasing and being his normal upbeat self. It was inspiring…and endearing.

Jack sighed almost forlornly as the chaplain disappeared inside his tent. The more time he spent around John, the more time he wanted to spend around John. He knew eventually they would reach the boiling point in their friendship when the priest would say they were spending _too_ much time together and that Jack should find other friends, but he hoped that they were a long way from that point.

Picking up his book, Jack settled outside in the chair and lost himself in the strange world of George Orwell.

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Tentationem

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Captain Jack Peterson (OC)

Rating: MA

Summary: The chaplain befriends the newest surgeon at the 4077th, but quickly finds himself at odds with his feelings when the unexpected occurs.

Author's Note: Based on the character portrayed by Rene Auberjonois from _MASH_ (1970), the original film production. Captain Jack Peterson bears no resemblance to either Captain Jack Sparrow or Captain Jack Harkness, unfortunately. The title is Latin for "Temptation".

Not the most elegant of chapters, but meh. As always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. –RW

* * *

><p>The friendship between the surgeon and the chaplain continued to grow over the next few weeks, despite the continued influx of heavy casualties. Jack found himself greatly anticipating each time he would see the other man, and the two never seemed to be at a loss for conversation. They had talked politics, history, literature, and—of course—religion.<p>

"It astounds me how knowledgeable you are about religions, how you can see their similarities, how you can accept what others believe and give credit to their faith, and yet, here you are…a devout Catholic priest who faithfully adheres to the Ten Commandments and believes that your God is the one true God." Jack said one evening as the two meandered around the perimeter of the camp. The sun was setting, coloring the sky with magnificent hues of orange, purple and pink. "How is that even possible, John?"

"The Bible teaches us that God is the Alpha and the Omega—the beginning and the end—and the creator of all things. God has always existed and people have always had faith in Him, but before God began to speak to us through His prophets, it was difficult to discern His will or really even truly understand who or what God was. That's why we see so many different religions from monotheism to polytheism and even pantheism. It would be ignorant and misleading for me to say that Christianity is the _only_ religion because Christianity wasn't even established until after the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Jesus, himself, was a Jew. Historically speaking, the oldest organized religion is Hinduism, but there is no specific theological system or even a single concept of a deity. It evolved through various traditions of the Indian culture, and is still today quite varied in practice. As we evolved as humans and became more aware of the world and the cosmos, we began to realize that God had been speaking to us through prophets, telling us of His Divine Law, telling us that He was the one true God; but imagine that someone today came up to you and said that God had spoken to them. We would dismiss them as crazy, right? So did people in ancient times, which is part of why God was such a vengeful and jealous God in those times. If you're the Almighty God, and people refuse to believe your prophets and instead worship false gods, wouldn't you be a little upset, too? People started wanting proof that what the prophets were saying was truly the word of God, so God gave us proof through the burning bush in Mount Sinai when he told Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, and through the Ten Commandments which he gave to Moses, and ultimately through the death and resurrection of His only son, Jesus Christ and the miracles Christ performed whilst on Earth." Dago paused, bringing the train of thought back around. "You ask how I can be a Christian, how I can be a Catholic priest who accepts that there are other faiths, other paths to God, than my own…It is because I know that God is older than all religions. Having faith and believing in Him is what is important. Jesus once told a Samaritan woman that the time was coming when true believers in God would worship Him in spirit and in truth, and that was what God wanted. People have interpreted this a million different ways, but…well, to me, it means that so long as a person is sincere and true in their worship, then it is a valid worship."

Jack had stopped walking, listening intently, and was now looking at Dago with a strange expression. "You're incredible, you know that?"

Dago blushed, "I'm not, really. To be quite honest, I'm a bit of a radical in the eyes of the Church. You're the only person I've ever shared my ideology about religion with. I know if I spoke to anyone else in the Church, they would probably have me excommunicated for heresy."

"What makes me so special?"

"You were honest with me about your views on religion. It was only fair I was honest about mine. Besides, I haven't really said anything that isn't supported by fact—it's simply a matter of researching. The belief, however, that faith is the only important matter…that is mine. I have no facts or proof to support it, just my convictions."

"Your convictions are good enough for me." Jack said softly, then smiled ruefully. "I think you should go into teaching after the war. Philosophy or religion would be right up your alley."

Dago laughed, but shook his head. "I follow the call of God and go where He needs me. Right now I'm needed here."

"For Hawkeye." Jack teased, recalling earlier conversations.

"For everyone." Dago corrected with a tone of sincerity.

Jack studied Dago's handsome face for a long moment, shadowed slightly by the waning light of day. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he considered the man before him; thoughts and feelings that had budded over the last few weeks suddenly coming into full bloom. "What if someone needed something from you that wasn't really a spiritual matter?"

Dago looked at him curiously. "Like what?"

Jack swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he made a quick decision. He brought his hands up and gently laid them on the priest's shoulders as he leaned in and pressed his lips against John's.

It was a chaste kiss, gentle and undemanding—albeit one sided—but one that left Jack aching for more as he pulled away after several seconds. He wasn't surprised to find the priest gaping at him with a distressed look, obviously fighting for something to say. Jack swallowed again, knowing he'd just crossed the line and that their friendship now hung in the balance from his one daring act.

"Something like that." Jack said softly when the priest failed to produce any sound.

"Jack, I—"

"Attention, All personnel: Incoming wounded." The loudspeaker cut off whatever John was going to say, but Jack could see the anguish in the other man's eyes before the priest swiftly turned away.

Jack reached out for John's arm, catching his sleeve. "John, wait…"

"We have wounded." Dago said shakily, gently pulling free of Jack's grasp.

The two silently made their way towards the bus that was rolling into camp, awkwardness now settling between them and making the silence almost unbearable. Jack wanted to apologize, wanted to feign a laugh and tell John it had been a lark, but it was too late and the damage had been done. The priest said nothing as he headed in one direction, away from Jack, and Jack wanted to believe it was because the chaplain was just too focused on the wounded.

* * *

><p>It was morning when Jack finally emerged from the OR with Hawkeye and Trapper just behind him. Hawkeye stopped in the doorway, giving a great yawn and stretching his arms high in the air, effectively blocking the exit for Dago, who had been trailing in the rear.<p>

"Excuse me, Hawkeye," Dago said quietly when the surgeon made no attempt to continue moving.

"Oh, sorry, Dago; didn't see you there."

The priest pushed around the doctor, making a wide birth around Jack and carefully avoiding eye contact. Jack felt a sharp pang in his chest at having just been scorned by the other man. "John…" He called, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

When the chaplain pretended not to hear Jack and quickened his steps towards his tent, Hawkeye called out to him, "Hey, Dago…Jack's talking to you."

The priest froze, obviously knowing he couldn't feign deafness now. He turned around, still not looking at Jack. "Forgive me, but I've—I've really got to use the latrine."

Jack knew it was a lie, but he let it go. The last thing he wanted to do was corner the man, but Hawkeye however, didn't let it go. "The latrine's over there, Dago."

"Oh," Dago's gaze shifted towards the officer's latrine guiltily. "Of course." He quickly veered off in that direction and Jack could hear the wheels turning in Hawkeye's head.

"Huh…that was strange. Everything okay with you and Dago?"

"I'm sure he's just tired." Jack said weakly. "Excuse me, I'm not feeling too well."

Hawkeye watched the newest surgeon walk towards the Swamp as Trapper stepped up beside him. "What was that all about?"

Hawkeye shrugged, just as clueless. "Come on, I think I might be able to stomach some slop this morning."

* * *

><p>Dago stood in the latrine for several moments; long enough to make the others think he really had to go, and give them time to go their separate ways. He knew he couldn't keep trying to avoid Jack for the rest of the time the surgeon would be in camp, but right now he had no idea what to say or do or think or feel. After making sure the coast was clear, Dago made a mad dash to his tent, flipping the latch and leaning against the door.<p>

Heaving a heavy sigh, Dago closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. If the last 14 hours of surgery hadn't been disconcerting, then the unsolicited kiss from Jack certainly had. Collapsing onto his bunk, the priest tried to figure out when things had taken such an unexpected turn. Dago conceded that maybe he had been a little friendlier with Jack than with most people in the camp, but he'd already explained that, hadn't he? No one had ever taken the time to truly get to know Dago, to talk to him, to pick his brain about politics and religion and literature—all the things he and Jack had similar interests in and discussed at length. His intentions had never been more than just friends. If he had mislead Jack into thinking otherwise…

Groaning at the thought, Dago turned and faced the canvas wall of his tent. He didn't know what to do or how to approach the situation, but before he could start thinking of how to move forward, there was a knock on his door.

"Who is it?" Dago called, in no mood for company.

"Hawkeye. Let me in, Dago."

"Go away, Hawkeye. I'm—I'm trying to sleep."

Hawkeye tugged on the door handle, trying to gain entry and Dago sighed wearily, knowing the doctor wouldn't give up until he got his way. He got out of bed and unlatched the door just as Hawkeye tugged again. Hawkeye gave him a lopsided grin.

"Can I come in?"

"Since you tried to rip my door off the hinges, I suppose I'd better let you." Dago said, stepping aside. "What's so important that it couldn't wait until later?"

"I just came to see if you were alright, that's all."

"I'm fine. Goodnight, Hawkeye…or good morning…or I don't even know what time it is." Dago sighed.

"Come on, Dago…what's eating you? You and Jack have been paling around since he got here but this morning you couldn't have been colder to him if you'd been frozen solid."

"I don't want to talk about it, Hawkeye. I _can't_ talk about it."

Hawkeye could hear the distress in the chaplain's voice and reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Look, babe, it's obvious something's bugging you. If you're worried I'm going to say something—"

"It's not that…well, it's not entirely that." Dago corrected, then raked a hand through his hair as he contemplated what to say. "Something happened that I…well I don't know what to do about it. It caught me completely off guard and now I…God, I just feel completely at a loss."

"Okay," Hawkeye said gently, taking the priest's elbow and leading him over to the cot where they sat side-by-side. "Tell me what it is, maybe I can help."

"Swear to me you won't say a single word of this to anyone."

"Okay."

"Swear it, Hawkeye!" The priest demanded.

"Jesus, Dago, I swear!"

Dago shifted uncomfortably. "Last night…before the wounded arrived…Jack and I were taking a stroll around the camp just talking like we always do."

"Right."

"Then…well…he sort of…"

"Sort of what?" Hawkeye pressed as the chaplain fretted.

"He kissed me." He murmured.

Hawkeye's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Whatever he'd expected to hear, this hadn't been it. "I'm sorry, could you say that again? I'm not sure I heard you right."

"You heard right," Dago said, sounding as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "I don't really know what prompted it or anything. We were talking about religion of all things and then…then he just…you know."

"How do you feel about that?" Hawkeye asked, not sure what to say exactly.

"Upset, obviously." Dago said somewhat hotly. "I'm embarrassed and appalled and ashamed and—"

"Wait," Hawkeye interrupted. "Why are you ashamed?"

Dago could feel his face turning red as he fought for an answer, but Hawkeye had already bounded on ahead of him.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph…you liked it, didn't you?"

"I don't know." Dago admitted shamefully. "It didn't last terribly long, and I didn't exactly reciprocate, and I was more in shock than anything but…I…part of me doesn't mind what happened. I'm very disturbed by that, but more so…what on earth do I say to him now? I can't go on being his friend after something like that, can I?"

"Why not?"

"It would be…misleading. It would be…awkward."

"It would be un-Christian of you _not_ to be his friend." Hawkeye pointed out. "Isn't your whole religion based on forgiveness? Just tell him you're not a fairy but you still want to be friends and that he should keep his lips at least six feet away from yours at all times."

"Hawkeye," Dago quietly reprimanded his crudeness, then sighed as he thought about what Hawkeye had said. "Maybe you're right…but it doesn't explain why part of me enjoyed being kissed by him."

Hawkeye thought about this for a long moment. "Dago, when's the last time you were kissed by _anyone_?"

"I don't know," Dago replied uncomfortably. "High school maybe, possibly college. Certainly not after I went to seminary."

"There you have it, then. Kissing is nice, it's fun, it's pleasant; it feels good to be kissed. You haven't been kissed in so long that your lips probably would have eventually fallen off from being so deprived. It's probably not the fact that _Jack_ kissed you, it was probably just the fact that you were being kissed at all. Could have been anyone…could have been me." Hawkeye grinned and the chaplain gave him a sour look.

"Don't push your luck."

Hawkeye laughed and wrapped his arm around the priest's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Look, Dago. It's obvious you care for Jack, so don't let this come between you. If you don't want anything physical from him, just tell him."

"Yes, but kissing aside, the issue of his sexuality has now arisen. That's a whole other can of worms both Biblically and militarily speaking. He could be discharged if anyone finds out."

"Then don't tell anyone, Dago. Or…hell, _do_ tell someone," Hawkeye reconsidered. "He'd probably thank you for getting him out of here. In fact, if I kiss you, will you tell Henry I'm a fairy too?"

"Hawkeye!" The priest reprimanded him again.

"Look, you've got to figure out where you stand on your friendship with him, but don't turn your back on him. Even I think that's a bit mean."

"You're right." Dago sighed. "I'll sleep on it and talk to him after we've all gotten some rest."

"Good plan."

"Thank you for listening, Hawkeye, but just remember…if you tell anyone, I'll sock you in the nose."

The threat was real enough, but Hawkeye couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, Dago. My tongue may be wagging, but my lips are sealed."

Dago could see the grin forming on the surgeon's lips and knew he was about to make a crack at the priest's expense. He thrust his finger into the other man's face. "Don't even say it. Whatever you're thinking, don't even say it."

Hawkeye threw his head back and laughed, then ruffled Dago's hair as he got up. "See ya, Losing Preacher."

"_Goodbye_, Hawkeye."

Dago waited until he was alone before he laid back down on his bunk with a bone-weary sigh. He considered what Hawkeye had said—that perhaps Dago hadn't enjoyed the fact that he'd been kissed by Jack, but simply that he'd been kissed at all—but part of him disagreed with Hawkeye's assessment. He remembered the way Jack had looked at him as he had talked, the look in his eyes just before he'd kissed him…it made Dago's stomach flip-flop pleasantly. No one had ever looked at him like that before. The chaplain knew there was nothing wrong with being flattered—he could appreciate that Jack was attracted to him—but his feelings for Jack were more than just flattery, and that was the problem.

When the priest finally succumbed to sleep, he was no closer to knowing what to do about his predicament than he was when Jack had kissed him, and his thoughts tormented him in his dreams.

* * *

><p>Hawkeye was the only one in the Swamp when Jack woke up later that day. The other surgeon was busy penning what looked to be a letter and Jack rubbed his eyes before he sat up and reached for his glasses.<p>

"Are you on-duty tonight?"

"Nope. Duke." Hawkeye answered without looking up.

"That's good."

"Ah-yup." Hawkeye dotted his i's, crossed several t's, then placed a period at the end of a sentence before he sat back and looked at Jack. "You should go over and talk to Dago."

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Why not?"

Jack wasn't sure how to answer that without giving away too much. "I…well, I think I might have offended him. I'm probably the last person he wants to see."

"I don't think that's the case. Dago's quite fond of you."

"What makes you say that?"

"Trust me." Hawkeye said, then nodded to the door. "Chances are he's awake; go talk to him."

Jack hesitated, but Hawkeye's confidence made him anxious, and he pushed off his bunk, running his hand back through his hair and quickly dressing before he headed for the chaplain's tent. He stopped 2 feet from the door, his heart pounding against his chest as he formulated what to say to Dago. He could start with 'I'm sorry' but…he wasn't. He could promise it wouldn't happen again, but he didn't want to make that promise.

Taking a deep breath, Jack let it out slowly. His friendship with the priest was more important to him than anything. If he had to apologize, if he had to make promises…he would. He wouldn't like it, but he would. He raised his hand and knocked quietly.

After several seconds, the door was pushed open and Jack found himself looking into John's eyes. The priest's expression was unreadable, but Jack could see the nervousness suddenly set into the other man's features as they stood there at an impasse—neither speaking, neither making the first move.

"Can I come in?" Jack finally asked respectfully.

Dago blinked as if coming out of a trance and stepped back, "Yes…I'm sorry… please, come in."

"Thanks." Jack murmured, unintentionally brushing against Dago as he passed through the narrow doorway. Jack had been in the priest's tent only once before—that day when Dago had asked him to come wake him. His mind flashed back to that evening. He'd knocked several times with no response, and when he went inside the tent, he'd found the priest had stuffed cotton in his ears to block out any noise that might wake him prematurely. Jack had watched the other man sleep for several seconds, taking advantage of the opportunity to look at him so freely.

"I think we need to talk about what happened," Dago said softly as he closed the door, bringing Jack back to the present. Jack watched the priest run a hand back through his hair before Dago motioned to the empty chair. Jack sat, watching John pace the room as he wrung his hands together anxiously.

"I'm not sure there is an easy way to say this, so I'll just get right to the point. I…I'm flattered that you consider me worthy of your affections, but…I simply cannot give you what you want, assuming that what you want is a sexual relationship. In the eyes of God, sexual intimacy between two men is an abomination; it is explicitly forbidden. Not only that, but the Church requires priests to abstain from sexual intimacy, period."

Jack considered this for a long moment, trying not to read between the lines, but not able to help himself. "What if God and the Church didn't matter?"

"Jack …" Dago pleaded softly, dropping his head down to his hand and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Come on, John. You're an intelligent man; I know you can think for yourself…Would you feel different if you weren't a priest?"

"Knowing how I may or may not feel isn't going to change the fact that I _must_ adhere to God's law and Catholic dogma."

"Humor me." Jack insisted, then added a softer, "please."

Dago sighed and looked skyward as if in silent prayer, then sat on the edge of his bunk. "The truth is that I don't know how I feel, Jack. I consider you a close, personal friend—which is more than I can say about a lot of people—but I _can't_ allow myself to consider anything beyond that."

"Fair enough," Jack nodded thoughtfully. "But what if sex didn't matter?"

"What do you mean?"

"As nice as sex would be, that's not what I'm after. Not that I was after anything to begin with, but I can't deny that I'm attracted to you. All I really want is to be close to you…whenever I can and in whatever capacity you'd accept. Intimacy isn't just limited to sex, John."

"If not sex, then what?" Dago queried, genuinely curious.

Jack hesitated a moment before he stood up and moved next to Dago, deliberately sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the priest. Dago was clasping his hands together tightly and Jack reached over with one hand, running his fingers down the chaplain's arm until he was able to gently pull one hand free. He wove their fingers together loosely, lightly stroking the back of John's thumb. "This, for example."

Dago looked at their joined hands for a long moment, and Jack could see the war raging inside of him. "I don't know that I can allow this, Jack…"

"Does the Bible forbid you to hold hands with me?"

"No…" Dago said softly after a moment's consideration. "But it's not appropriate."

Dago pulled his hand free and got up, pacing the floor again as he collected his thoughts. "I would like us to be friends, Jack; much in the way we've been up until last night, but I think the intimacy you're asking for is beyond what I can give you. I hope you can understand that."

"Of course," Jack nodded, moving to stand in front of Dago. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable when we're together. I'm sorry for kissing you…well, no…I take that back. I'm not sorry for kissing you; I'm sorry that it upset you. I actually thoroughly enjoyed kissing you."

"It's okay." Dago offered a genuine, friendly smile, biting back the comment that he'd enjoyed the kiss as well, knowing that it would just add to the complications that already existed in their friendship.

"Does it matter to you that I'm…you know…a fairy?" Jack asked quietly.

Dago placed his hand on Jack's shoulder reassuringly. "None of us is without sin, Jack. Jesus befriended lepers, prostitutes, thieves and atheists. I'm sure if he'd come across a homosexual, he would have befriended him as well, so who I am to turn away from you? I never meant to in the first place…you just caught me completely off guard."

Jack smiled at him. "I told you; you're incredible."

"I'm just a man who does unto others as I would have them do unto me." Dago shrugged. "There is something you should know, though."

"What's that?" Jack asked as the priest stepped back and started wringing his hands again.

"Hawkeye came by here this morning. He was concerned about how I treated you after we'd all left the OR, and knew that something was bothering me. I didn't intend on telling anyone about what happened, but if there's anyone in camp I can trust…it's Hawkeye. I told him about last night and asked for his advice…. He knows of your sexuality."

"Oh…" Jack said, not sure how he felt about that revelation.

"I am sorry for speaking to him without your consent, but he will take what I told him to the grave…you can count on that."

Jack considered this for a long moment before looking at John. "Did he at least give you good advice?"

Dago shrugged. "Yes and no. He reminded me how un-Christian I was being by turning my back on you and said that even _he_ thought it was mean. That was never my intention. I simply didn't know what to say or how to react and I needed time to think it through. He did suggest that I not put off discussing it with you."

"That sounds like the good advice part," Jack mused. "What was the bad advice?"

"He suggested I do you a favor by getting you a Section 8 so you could go home; then proceeded to ask if I would do the same for him if he kissed me."

Jack couldn't help but laugh ruefully, shaking his head. "That sounds like Hawkeye, alright."

Dago smiled softly, then ventured. "Are we okay?"

Jack nodded, "I think so."

The priest's face broke into a wide, gleeful grin, and the pair stood there staring at each other for a long moment. Jack wanted to pull Dago into another kiss, but knew that if he did, the priest would reconsider his offer of friendship altogether. Though disappointed, Jack couldn't fault Dago for his beliefs. He knew that he was in a scant minority when it came to his sexuality, but after spending so much time with Dago, and all the lingering looks and friendly touches, he had taken the chance that maybe there was more than amity on the priest's behalf. Jack considered that maybe he'd simply been hoping it, imagining more behind every glance, every smile, every brush of the hand…but then again Dago hadn't outright denied feeling something for Jack, he'd just said he couldn't allow it.

Jack inwardly sighed, knowing he could no more push the man into admitting his feelings, than he could convince a dead man to come back to life. The only thing to do now, was keeping going forward the way they had been. "Have you eaten today? I'm starving."

"I haven't. I'd only been up a few minutes before you knocked on my door."

"Come on," Jack smiled and held the door open for the priest. "I'll buy you a steak dinner."

Dago laughed. "If only."

* * *

><p>As Dago returned to his tent later that afternoon, he couldn't help but feel somewhat uneasy. Though he and Jack had easily fallen back into their camaraderie, he knew he hadn't been 100% honest with Jack or himself. The more aware he became of Jack's regard for him, the more nervous he felt around the man, and it was all because Dago was feeling the stirrings of something more than friendship himself.<p>

It had started with the kiss and expanded when Jack had taken hold of his hand, now it was spreading like a rash, giving him the itch to confess his feelings…but what good would that do? Dago was still bound by God's law and his vow of celibacy. Sex, as he'd told Jack, was completely out of the question, but now he was finding himself wondering if there _was_ a way to be intimate without breaking any rules.

The deviation of his thoughts was disconcerting. Dago had never considered himself a sexual being. On some level he'd always known he would become a priest, so sex had taken a backseat in his mind. He'd kissed girls, dated them even, but he'd never seen the point of making out or heavy petting. He hadn't realized, though, just how nice a simple touch or kiss could be…nor did he appreciate the impact they could have on you long after the fact; the desire something so simple could create within you.

Dago knelt at the small alter in his tent, crossing himself as he stared up at the figure of his savior on the cross. "If ever I needed Your guidance…now would be the time. Have I been corrupted? Has the devil been toying with me? Offering me these temptations of the flesh, planting devious thoughts in my head of the most unholy nature? How can I feel this way about another man when I know that it is an abomination to you? How do I rid myself of these desires? Give me the strength, Lord. Let me not lead Jack into sin and let him not lead me as well. Let us be each other's resolve."

The chaplain spent an hour repeating the prayer of Hail Mary in full Latin in an attempt to atone for his immoral thoughts. When he finally pulled himself up off his knees, he felt no stronger than he had when he'd started praying. Dago knew the only way to avoid the temptation was to not put himself in a situation where he and Jack were alone. That seemed simple in theory, but as he reflected on the last several weeks, he realized just how often the two had been left to their own devices. It had been during one such occasion when Jack had been overwhelmed by his desires and had kissed John. Dago found himself seriously wondering _why_ Jack had done it.

Most people didn't go around kissing others they felt attracted to on the sheer hope that the feelings would be reciprocated. Homosexual men especially did not take such liberties when there was no indication that the deed would be welcomed. This all led John back to his original thought that he must have unintentionally given Jack some sort of signal that the feelings were mutual, even though he'd never once considered the possibility of romantic attachments.

Dago rubbed his temples. The whole thing was giving him a horrible headache. Aspiring not to think about it altogether, Dago grabbed up his banned Voltaire novel and lay in his bunk to read. It was still daylight outside, but he needed time to be alone for now…at least until he was able to quiet his mind.

* * *

><p>"Four of a kind," Walt Waldowski tossed down his cards and looked across the table at Jack, along with the other 5 players who had either folded or been beaten by the Painless Pole's poker hand.<p>

Jack looked at the cards on the table, then back to the cards in his hand, trying to give nothing away. He'd never been a very good poker player, but he'd always been lucky. When Hawkeye had talked him into playing around after John had excused himself from their company earlier that afternoon, he hadn't really felt like it, but figured he needed to be seen talking to other people besides the chaplain, especially now.

Already having won 3 hands in a row, Jack wasn't sure how the others might react to another win. He laid the 4-5-6-7 and 8 of hearts face down on the table. "Guess my luck ran out, fellas. Good game."

Hawkeye looked at Jack oddly, seeming to know that he'd just thrown the game, but opted not to say anything as Jack thanked the others for a good game and politely excused himself.

"Come back anytime," Walt called, raking in his winnings. "Door's always open."

"Thanks," Jack waved and stepped out into the evening air.

Though he had intended on going straight back to the Swamp, he couldn't help but glance across the compound at the chaplain's tent. He could see that a light was still burning, and checked his watch. It wasn't quite 9 o'clock…perhaps if he were lucky, Dago might let him sit and visit a while before bed.

Hopeful, Jack stopped by the mess tent and filled two mugs with coffee, preparing one of them the way that the priest liked with two spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of milk. He carried them across the compound, then gently knocked on Dago's door.

"Who is it?" the soft, gentle voice of the chaplain called out from within.

"It's me…Jack…I thought you might like a cup of coffee before bed."

Jack heard the sound of chair legs scrapping across the plywood floorboards of the tent before the door was carefully pushed open. Dago was wearing his olive drab army trousers and his black t-shirt, but nothing else. Even his feet were bare. Jack was struck into awed silence for a long moment, unable to stop his eyes from drinking in the sight of the man before him, right down to the tendons straining in his extended hand as he held the door open. When he finally managed to drag his eyes back to Dago's face, he could have sworn he saw a hint of pink coloring the other man's cheeks.

"Come in," the priest said, sounding hesitant.

"I can come back if it's a bad time."

"No," Dago shook his head. "I was just working on a sermon, but I could use a break."

"Are you sure?"

The priest smiled and nodded. "It's fine, really."

Jack handed over Dago's hot cup of coffee as he went inside the tent. On the small wooden desk, there were several books open and a sheet of paper half-filled with writing. He smiled softly and looked back at the chaplain. "You hand-write all your sermons?"

"It's the only way I can organize my thoughts and memorize it." Dago admitted. "If I don't, I end up going off on tangents and can turn an hour service into half a day."

Jack laughed and Dago indicated to the desk chair before seating himself on his neatly made cot. Jack eyed Voltaire peeking out from under the priest's pillow and smirked again, this time keeping his comment to himself.

"How was the poker game?" Dago asked, sipping his coffee.

"How'd you know I was playing poker?"

"I went over to the mess tent earlier for a bite to eat before it got too late." Dago said. "I stopped by the Swamp to see if you wanted to join me, but Trapper said you and Hawkeye had been cleaning up at the poker table."

"I'm sorry I missed you," Jack replied, sincerely disappointed that he'd missed out on their usual meal together.

"It's okay; I'm glad you found something to occupy your time."

Jack nearly said that he wished the priest would occupy his time, but knew that would go over like a lead balloon, so he drowned the thought in black coffee instead and changed the subject. "What's your sermon about?"

Dago looked at the open books on his desk, seeming to hesitate for a very long moment before he finally answered. "Temptation."

"Oh…" Jack said, knowing that his kiss had probably inspired the priest, though that hadn't been the type of inspiration he'd wanted to elicit from the other man. The air suddenly felt tense, and Jack imagined that an entire parade of elephants had just walked between them. "If this is too awkward for you, I can go."

Dago glanced up at him, obviously conflicted. With some effort, he finally admitted, "It is awkward…but not for the reason you think."

Jack raised his eyebrows, waiting for the man to elaborate. When he didn't, Jack gently prodded him with a soft, "Oh?"

Dago absently reached up with one hand and held onto the cross around his neck as he avoided Jack's gaze, dragging it back and forth along the silver chain as he spoke. "I've been thinking things over and debating all day whether or not I should tell you this…mostly because I don't see what good it could do. In fact, I think it will just complicate matters even more."

Jack waited, not wanting to deter the priest from saying what was troubling him. He watched the other man's struggle for a long moment before Dago finally brought his eyes up to fully meet Jack's, his hand falling away from the cross.

"'Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.'"

The doctor furrowed his brows, surprised and confused by the Biblical quote. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Dago replied with a slight quaver to his voice, "that part of me feels more for you than is acceptable and appropriate."

"Oh," Jack said in quiet understanding. "Only part?"

The chaplain flushed. "The rest of me is completely befuddled by this whole thing."

"Sounds like I really turned your whole world upside down."

"The problem is that I don't know what to do about it." Dago admitted. "The obvious answer would be not to put ourselves in a situation where we are in over our heads, so to speak."

"John…if you're uncomfortable being alone with me, I'll understand."

"I know," the priest said after a moment's consideration, his gaze again avoiding the other man's. "But it's the last part of the scripture I'm having trouble accepting."

Jack tried to remember what Dago had quoted.

"I'm not sure I could bear it." Dago said almost inaudibly, dropping his head down into his hands in shame.

Jack pierced him with a quizzical expression, trying not to jump to conclusions or read between the lines. He realized how serious this situation was for the priest, how discomfiting and alarming it probably was. How confused the other man must feel… Jack could recall similar feelings when he first realized his attraction for men. He remembered feeling so lost and so alone. He'd felt like a true freak of nature—like a sideshow act in the circus. Men were not supposed to have those feelings for other men. It was unnatural; it was disgusting; it was unspeakable. It killed him to think that John might be feeling any one of those things now.

With great uncertainty, Jack set his coffee cup on Dago's desk and got to his feet. The priest raised his head at the movement, but Jack didn't falter in his step as he moved to sit directly next to John. He placed his hand on the other man's knee, giving it a light—almost caressing—squeeze. John dropped one hand on top of Jack's, and laced their fingers together tightly. Jack was more than a little surprised, but could feel the slight tremble in the priest's hand.

Dago looked at their entwined hands with mounting anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, hammering against his ribcage. The scripture he'd quoted to Jack was echoing now in his mind like a siren. God had given him a graceful way out of this by Jack asking—not once, but twice—if he should leave, but Dago had been unwilling to let this go.

_God forgive me…_ Dago thought as he slowly brought his eyes up to look at the doctor, seeing him in a new light. Blue eyes glittered brilliantly under the single bulb lighting the tent, framed behind rectangular glasses. Jack was handsome, Dago allowed; truly handsome.

"Anytime you want me to stop, just say the word." Jack murmured, laying his other hand on top of their conjoined hands.

Dago's mind was screaming 'STOP! STOP! STOP!,' but all he could do was nod in acceptance of the terms and swallow the lump that formed in his throat.

Jack knew that if this was going to work at all, he was going to have to take baby steps until the priest could meet him half-way, or until he was told to stop. He, himself, felt more than a little nervous. John had told him earlier that afternoon that there was no way in hell anything would happen between them…now, here they were…an admission to the priest's own feelings hanging between them.

_Start small._ Jack reminded himself as he began to tenderly massage the priest's fine-boned hand. He could feel the other man gradually start to relax, and so carefully extended the massage to include the man's wrist by lightly dragging his thumb across the pulse point. Dago closed his eyes and Jack watched him silently as he continued to caress the priest's hand. Again, the inner struggle of right and wrong played itself out on John's face, and it was hard to tell which side was winning the battle.

After several minutes, the priest finally laid his other hand on top of Jack's to still the movement. Though Dago was not directly looking at him, Jack could see the dilation of his pupils and knew without a doubt the priest was becoming aroused, which was probably the breaking point for him at this juncture.

"It's getting late," John said thickly.

"Yes." Jack agreed, knowing better than to push his luck. He tried to bring the tension in the room down by adding some normalcy to the conversation. "I'm on duty tomorrow."

"Oh," Dago replied, blinking as he looked at the doctor, his pupils slowly returning to normal. "Well, I hope we don't have any more wounded for a while."

"Ditto." Jack said with a slight laugh. He gave Dago's hand a gentle squeeze, then stood up. The priest rose beside him, an anxious air still about him. Jack couldn't help but smile as he realized that John was probably unsure of how to end the strange evening.

Turning to face the man fully, Jack placed his hand on Dago's shoulder, giving the muscle beneath a light squeeze. Dago's eyes were directed at the button's on Jack's shirt, so Jack lightly tipped the man's chin up with his fingers until their eyes met. Though he knew he was walking on thin ice, Jack slowly leaned in—giving the priest time to say no—and pressed a chaste kiss to the other man's lips. He was more than a little surprised when Dago's lips pursed against his own, and though he desperately wanted to deepen the kiss, Jack slowly pulled back after a lingering canoodle.

"Goodnight, John."

"Goodjack, Night." The priest shook his head, his cheeks flushing. "I mean goodnight, Jack."

Jack laughed, chucking Dago lightly under the chin before he retrieved his coffee cup and backed towards the door. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

"S-Sure. Y-Yeah." Dago stuttered nervously, then stopped and closed his eyes briefly as he visibly tried to calm himself. He looked at Jack again, clearly speaking, "I'd like that."

Smiling, Jack pushed open the door and bid the man adieu. He barely realized he'd started whistling until he was halfway to the Swamp.

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Tentationem

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Captain Jack Peterson (OC)

Rating: MA

Summary: The chaplain befriends the newest surgeon at the 4077th, but quickly finds himself at odds with his feelings when the unexpected occurs.

Author's Note: Based on the character portrayed by Rene Auberjonois from _MASH_ (1970), the original film production. Captain Jack Peterson bears no resemblance to either Captain Jack Sparrow or Captain Jack Harkness, unfortunately. The title is Latin for "Temptation".

As always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. –RW

* * *

><p>Dago waited for the door to swing close before he released the breath he'd been holding with a whoosh. There had often been times when Dago had felt he was in over his head, but this situation with Jack seemed to be in a league of its own. He felt so flummoxed by his own actions and admissions that he couldn't even begin to contemplate what kind of consequences lay in store for him. The chaplain knew only two things for certain: 1.) He liked Jack and 2.) He was in deep, deep trouble.<p>

The scripture he'd quoted to Jack about withstanding temptation was still circling around his head, leaving him wondering if he should have accepted Jack's offer to leave. Most likely, that answer was yes. So why hadn't he? _I didn't want him to go, _Dago's mind quickly supplied.

That was the problem, he conceded as he sat heavily in his desk chair. Want and need were two different things, and this thing with Jack was riding a very fine line between the two. The priest had always felt that touch was necessary for human survival. People simply _needed_ physical contact from other human beings—babies needed to be swathed, children needed to be cuddled, lovers needed to be embraced. Just because a priest vowed to abstain from the carnal manifestations of touch didn't mean he had to abstain from all incarnations of physical contact, did it? No…but there was a difference between a comforting touch and an intimate one, and it was the intimacy that Dago now craved.

It was that craving, that desire, which Dago also feared. Intimacy between two men was shameful, it was to be abhorred, it was a sin; but the temptation was still strong nonetheless and Dago couldn't deny the unusual attraction for Jack that had been awakened in him by last night's kiss. Was it that attraction that was driving him now; allowing temptation to win out over morality? He didn't know.

_What now?_ Dago thought, releasing another long puff of air as he rubbed his eyes. He'd given his consent for Jack to explore that intimacy with him, and though he knew he should be repentant and regretful of that decision…he wasn't. On the contrary, he felt exhilarated by it. That troubled him more than anything but he was still at a loss of what to do. He knew he should tell Jack that he'd made a mistake, but he didn't _want_ to. He'd made his bed, as it were, now he wanted to lie in it.

"God help me." John breathed, casting a look towards the Heavens before he pushed the entire situation to the back of his mind and resumed working on his sermon.

* * *

><p>Jack emerged from the shower tent—freshly washed and shaved—as life began to filter back into the bodies at the 4077th. People were meandering to and from the latrines and showers in their bathrobes, looking bedraggled and disgruntled at the prospect of another day in Korea, but Jack felt like he had a skip in his step.<p>

Last night had been unexpected. When the priest had told him he was forbidden to have a relationship, Jack believed that would be the end of the subject altogether. He'd anticipated the awkwardness and tension, but never imagined it was because the chaplain was actually struggling with _wanting_ a relationship. He supposed he couldn't blame the man—what was life without love anyways?—but he wondered just what the priest was looking for. Whatever it was, Jack contended, he would gladly provide it.

When Jack arrived back at the Swamp, he was surprised to find Dago sitting on his bunk talking with Hawkeye, who was wearing naught but a t-shirt and olive drab boxer shorts. The two men looked at Jack as he entered, but Jack only had eyes for the chaplain. John smiled faintly at him and made to stand up and get out of the other man's space, but Jack waved his hand gently and Dago remained on his bunk.

Hawkeye began to whistle the tune of "I'm in the Mood for Love" as he stood up and began to pull on his pants and Jack bit back a laugh as he caught John cut a glare in the other man's direction. Jack smiled in amusement as he began to dress himself.

"Joining us for breakfast this morning, Hawkeye?" he asked.

"Duke's still zonked out and Trap's still on-duty, so I thought I might." Hawkeye grinned at the chaplain. "That okay with you, Dago?"

Jack saw the blush rise in Dago's cheeks and he tried to respond with a nonchalant, "Of course."

Once the two men were dressed, Dago rose from Jack's bunk and three of them left the tent and crossed the compound to the mess tent shoulder to shoulder. Jack wondered what the two had been talking about before he'd arrived, but judging by Hawkeye's teasing and sudden eagerness to be around them, Jack could only assume it had to do with what had happened last night; though he figured it was more Hawkeye's prying than Dago's kissing-and-telling.

"So, did you finish your sermon for Sunday?" Jack asked, trying to ease the tension he could feel ebbing off of the chaplain.

"Mostly," Dago nodded. "Though I'm having a little trouble with the practical application of the topic."

"What's the topic?" Hawkeye asked.

Without a missing a beat, the priest glanced over at the surgeon and said, "Come to services on Sunday and find out."

"Not likely, Losing Preacher." Hawkeye said, grabbing the door and holding it open for the other two men.

"Guess you'll never know, then," Dago quipped back as he headed inside and picked up a tray and utensils.

Jack was amused by the exchange, and intrigued by the friendship that seemed to exist between John and Hawkeye. Though certainly not close by anyone's standards, there was an obvious mutual level of respect and acceptance, and the two had no problem bantering with each other. Jack knew it hadn't always been this way for them, but unless you knew different, it would seem the two had known each other all their lives.

"Hey Hawk!" Painless called from a table on the other side of the tent, waving the other man over.

"Hey babe," Hawkeye called back, then clapped Dago on the shoulder. "I'll catch up with you in a few. Painless probably wants me to pony up the dough I still owe him from the game last night."

"I thought you were ahead when I left." Jack smirked.

"That was when you left," Hawkeye pointed out, then headed off in Painless' direction.

Jack moved in slightly closer to Dago as they walked through the buffet line. He smiled gently now that they were somewhat alone. "Hi."

"Hello," the priest smiled back.

"How's your faith this morning, Father?"

Dago blushed slightly. "A little shaken, but I'm managing so long as I don't think about it for too long."

"You didn't spend all night flogging yourself in an attempt to atone, did you?"

That gained a soft laugh from the priest as he shook his head. "No, but if I can be honest, this whole situation has really stumped me."

"How so?"

"Temptation," Dago said as he poured a cup of coffee, added a dash of milk and sugar, then headed towards a table that was relatively empty. "I started writing that sermon in an attempt to seek an answer to my own problem of how to avoid and resist temptation, but… it's only raised other questions and has provided me no solutions. How can I offer a way out to others if there is no clear path to fighting temptation?"

"What have you told others before?"

"To pray," Dago replied, sprinkling salt on his eggs. "But I can speak from experience that prayer did nothing to help me this time."

"This time," Jack pointed out. "What was different about this time as opposed to previous times?"

"I don't know." Dago sighed. "That seems to be what's stumping me. It's come down to a debate between what I want and what I need, and the temptations therein."

"What is it you need?"

"A physical connection…" the priest admitted, then dropped his voice to a whisper. "Intimacy…in a manner of speaking."

"And what is it you want?"

"For you to give me what I need." John answered, holding Jack's eyes with a hard look of longing.

Jack moistened his suddenly dry lips with his tongue. He could feel himself growing hot under the collar as his pulse quickened. Though he wanted nothing more than to leap over the table and ravish the man across from him, he managed to stay put and pick at his breakfast. "I don't think that's a problem on my end."

Dago gave a long, bone weary sigh. "I wish it wasn't a problem on mine."

Hawkeye slid into the bench next to Dago. "Can you believe that guy? He charged me interest on the $10 bucks I owed him from last night. I swear to God, he can pinch a penny so hard it'll scream."

"All the more reason you should stop gambling away your money. Why don't you give it to the orphans instead? At least it would do some good that way."

"Peddling early this month, aren't you, Dago?" Hawkeye grinned, but pulled out his wallet and retrieved several notes. "Here…take it. Between you, Painless and my wife, I don't have a dime to my name."

"A man who has friendship and love is never broke," the chaplain quipped, plucking the bills from the surgeons hand and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

"Christ…now he's a fortune cookie." Hawkeye said, shaking his head at Jack. "Tried to warn you about him. If you're not careful, you'll start spouting this kind of garbage too."

Jack laughed and watched Hawkeye swipe a piece of toast off the chaplain's tray, which earned him an exasperated look.

"Do you mind?"

"Not well, I've been told." Hawkeye took a large bite out of the bread as he tipped his hat back and looked at Jack. "So I couldn't get much out of him about last night…anything interesting happen?"

"Oh yes," Jack replied, nodding vigorously. "Coffee, a little intellectual conversation and a good night's sleep. It was riveting."

Disappointment shone on Hawkeye's face for a moment before he leaned a little further towards Jack. "Come on, you can tell me all the tawdry little details."

"Hawkeye!" Dago sounded scandalized, but the blush invading his cheeks was a dead giveaway that things were not as innocent as they were playing it off to be.

Hawkeye extended his finger in a knowing gesture. "See, babe… I know you too well to buy the 'nothing happened' line. So, come on…did you do it?"

"No we didn't 'do it,'" the chaplain hissed, his eyes flicking about nervously for eavesdroppers. "Would you please just let it go? You _promised_."

"I promised not to tell anyone, Dago. I didn't promise not to pester you."

The priest groaned and dropped his head in his hands in exasperation and Hawkeye grinned over at Jack. He knew his colleague was just teasing John, but Jack couldn't help but feel bad for the chaplain. This was difficult and personal enough without Hawkeye harassing him about it. "Alright, lay off the good chaplain, Hawkeye."

"Aww, look at that, Dago…he's defending you." Hawkeye chortled, but when he received a glare in response from the priest, he raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you to it then. But if you do need someone to confess to…"

"It won't be you." Dago said firmly.

Hawkeye stood and ruffled John's hair affectionately, then winked at Jack. "See ya around, Hoosierkin."

"God, give me strength," the chaplain breathed, fixing his mussed hair.

Jack laughed, unable to contain his mirth. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say he's got a thing for you, too."

"Not hardly," Dago replied, pushing the remains of his tray away. "I think I lost my appetite."

Jack checked his watch. "I have about 15 minutes before I'm on duty…I have a suggestion of how I can satisfy your _other_ appetite."

He watched the priest swallow hard as his cheeks reddened yet again. "O-Oh?"

Jack gave him a knowing smile. "Come on."

Hesitantly, Dago rose from the table and carried his tray to the discard pile before following Jack out of the tent. He crammed his hands in his pocket to hide the tremble that had developed as his entire body knotted with nerves. He felt like his heart was going to explode by the time they reached his tent, and belated realized he hadn't breathed the whole way. He forced in a breath, held it for a beat, then released it as Jack faced him and placed his hands on Dago's shoulders.

"Relax," he said gently, lightly massaging the tense muscles. "I told you, all you have to say is stop."

Dago nodded, forcing another inhalation and exhalation of breath. Jack cupped Dago's face, gently tilting his head back until their eyes met and Dago forgot how to breathe once again as Jack's thumbs caressed his cheekbones. Jack could feel how taut the man was and almost laughed. He knew that this was a new game for the other man, but it was still somewhat amusing. He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against Dago's, feeling the other man's sharp intake of breath.

"Kiss me," Jack whispered, closing his eyes and brushing his lips against the priest's again.

He didn't expect to the priest to do more than purse his lips—which Dago did do on the next pass; and the next—but then Jack pressed his lips fully against John's and a switch seemed to flip in the other man. John's hands came up and gripped the lapels of Jack's shirt, drawing him into a fierce embrace. Jack couldn't help but groan in pleasant surprise, letting his arms fall from the man's face and encircle him tightly as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Though the chaplain obviously lacked experience, he certainly made up for it with passion, and the kiss was not disappointing in the least.

John tasted of bittersweet coffee, and his tongue was soft and warm against Jack's. Jack could feel a throb pulsing in his loins and knew he was becoming aroused. He could sense a similar response in the other man, as Dago's breathing grew erratic and his fists tightened around Jack's collar. He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably and finally pulled back from the kiss, breathless and red-faced.

"I'm sorry," he panted, releasing his hold on Jack's collar, his hands shaking.

"It's okay," Jack murmured, letting his hands fall to John's hips and pulling him forward until their bodies where flush. He could feel the other man's budding erection pressing against his own and he stifled another groan as he resisted the urge to press harder into Dago. The priest dropped his head down against Jack's shoulder, his hands gripping onto the doctor's biceps as he breathed heavily. Jack nuzzled the side of Dago's neck, breathing deep his unique scent. "God, John…if kissing you feels this good, I'm not sure I can honor my 'no sex' stance."

"I…I can't…" the priest stuttered, sounding torn.

"I know," Jack pressed a tender kiss just above the collar of the olive-drab shirt. "I won't do anything you don't want, but it feels so good to stand here like this against you. I wish I could show you how good it could feel."

Dago squeezed the man's biceps then pulled back from the embrace. "Believe me…I want that more than you know, but I can't…"

"It's okay," Jack whispered, leaning in and kissing John sweetly on the lips. "But if you change your mind, you know where to go."

"To Hawkeye?" The quip was so unexpected that Jack pulled back, looking at Dago with a wide-expression, too shocked to laugh. The priest flushed a brilliant shade of red. "Forgive me, that was—"

"Hysterical." Jack supplied, finding a laugh.

"Please don't tell him I said that."

"Of course not." Jack smiled, pleasantly surprised when the priest leaned in and gave him a lasting kiss.

"See you at lunch?" Dago asked shyly.

"Absolutely." They shared another kiss before Jack smoothed his collar and headed towards post-op for his shift.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I'm having a hard time writing this fic because I'm finding it similar to Infatuation and don't want to do a re-write... _


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Tentationem

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Captain Jack Peterson (OC)

Rating: MA

Summary: The chaplain befriends the newest surgeon at the 4077th, but quickly finds himself at odds with his feelings when the unexpected occurs.

Author's Note: Based on the character portrayed by Rene Auberjonois from _MASH_ (1970), the original film production. Captain Jack Peterson bears no resemblance to either Captain Jack Sparrow or Captain Jack Harkness, unfortunately. The title is Latin for "Temptation".

As always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. –RW

* * *

><p>The day shift was always long and tiring, but there was nothing worse than the anticipation of more wounded when it neared the 11th hour. When it neared 6 o'clock, Jack always found himself straining to listen for choppers. Choppers at sunset, he'd once been told, meant heavy casualties and a longer shift.<p>

When he'd been drafted, he'd been neither excited nor upset. Rather instead, he'd been very indifferent about the whole ordeal. It was inconvenient, of course, but it was experience that could help him later in his career. Jack really didn't care much about the war itself. War, he thought, was pointless but inevitable. So long as people disagreed about rights or freedom or religion or whatever, there would be conflict, and where there was conflict, there was eventually war.

Mulling over his thoughts on war and peace, Jack worked on his shift notes and got ready to turn the patients over to Hawkeye, who would be coming on duty that night. He smiled to himself as he thought back to the encounter at breakfast and the harassment the other doctor had given to the priest. Dago had confided in Hawkeye the events that had led up to their…unique friendship…and while the priest was certain that the doctor wouldn't betray them, he had obviously underestimated the amount of teasing he would get from Pierce.

As if on cue, Hawkeye sauntered into the post-op ward, whistling a dandy tune as he looked at various charts hanging off the ends of the cots. Jack quietly observed him as he finished his notes. He wasn't quite sure what to think of Pierce just yet. He'd always been friendly to Jack, included him in poker games or drinking binges at the Swamp, but Jack knew that Hawkeye had a mean streak. He hadn't seen it yet himself—for which he was surprised—but he hadn't let his guard down yet. He wouldn't so much call Hawkeye a friend, but knew that it was the closest term he had for now.

"How they goin', Hoosierkin?" Hawkeye called in his usual greeting from halfway down the ward, breaking Jack out of his thoughts.

"Alright, Hawkeye; you?"

"Finestkind." The doctor came over to the small desk where Jack was seated and perched himself on the edge, grinning down at Jack. "Suppose you'll be off to see Dago now, eh?"

"We typically eat together, yes." Jack replied, giving nothing away.

Hawkeye looked amused as he crossed his arms. "You are aware that I know what happened, right?"

"I am." Jack nodded, not looking up from the clipboard.

"And you know that eventually I will wear you or Dago down for details."

Jack did look up now. "Why are you so interested in what we may or may not being doing?"

Hawkeye shrugged, grinning. "Hard not to be with something like this."

"We haven't done anything, Hawkeye."

"So sayeth your lips, but the guilt on Dago's face begs to differ." Hawkeye wagged a finger in the air. "Don't get me wrong; I'm a firm believer in the fact that we should all be free to get a piece over here. I don't discriminate between priests, blacks, Jews and fairies. I'm just surprised that you would try to make the chaplain your conquest. And more so that he would let you. I thought that sort of stuff was off-limits for his kind."

"He's not my conquest," Jack defended. "I sincerely like John. He's sweet and he's smart and I enjoy being around him. If our relationship naturally progresses to something more physical, I'm certainly not going to complain, but John knows that he's in control of what happens. I'll never push him to do anything he doesn't want, or thinks he can't do because of his beliefs. Frankly, though, whatever we do, or don't do, isn't anyone else's business."

Hawkeye snorted a laugh, "Naturally progresses? Is that what you call it when you kiss someone who neither wants nor is expecting it?"

Jack blushed furiously. "That was a heat-of-the-moment thing."

Hawkeye was grinning maddeningly at Jack, obviously waiting for more.

Jack stood and pushed the clipboard into Hawkeye's hand. "Have a good night, Dr. Pierce."

Hawkeye laughed and clapped Jack on the shoulder as the other doctor made to leave.

* * *

><p><em>Temptation… <em>

Dago drummed the end of his pen against the desk as he stared at his still incomplete sermon. He'd defined temptation, given reference to passages in the Bible that spoke of how temptation was of the devil and that a faithful man should avoid temptation, but he still couldn't figure out _how_ to avoid it. Prayer, despite everything he'd ever been taught, was simply not enough. So what was the answer?

Before Dago could think further, there was a knock on his door and his lips lifted into a smile as he set his pen down and stood up, pushing the door open and smiling at Jack.

"Say, I seem to be lost," Jack said with a slight smirk. "Think you might point me in the right direction?"

"Depends on where you're headed." Dago played along, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

"Well, I'm trying to find Park Avenue, but I seem to just be going in circles."

Dago laughed. "I hate to tell you, but the nearest Park Avenue is probably thousands of miles from here."

"Oh," Jack said forlornly. "Well, I guess this place will have to do. Mind if I come in?"

Dago motioned the man inside, and gestured for him to have a seat.

"Hawkeye's insatiable, isn't he?" Jack asked without preamble as he sat on the priest's cot.

"How so?"

"He hounded me again to tell him what we've been up to."

"I should never have said anything to him," Dago sighed, settling himself back down in his chair.

"Don't worry about it. You needed someone to talk to."

"Yes; it's just a shame it had to be him."

Jack laughed softly, then noticed the still unfinished sermon on the priest's desk. "Still haven't found an ending to that yet?"

Dago looked at the paper and sighed again. "No. I'm almost ready to give up and call the bishop for some advice on the matter."

Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise and Dago quickly amended his statement.

"Just in general. Nothing specific. Though, to be quite honest, I'm not sure what he could tell me beyond prayer."

"You'd think for something as serious as temptation, the Bible would spell out how to avoid it."

"That would defeat the purpose of God giving us free will. We're not meant to know everything there is. The Bible is a set of guidelines to live by. Yes, there are very clear things like the 10 Commandments, but for the most part we have been given a moral code to live by and it is up to us to determine how to live Godly lives accordingly."

"I'm not sure you need to call that Bishop just yet," Jack said gently. "That sounded like pretty good advice right there."

"Maybe," Dago said thoughtfully. "I just wish I could offer them more than a 'figure it out on your own' answer."

"Maybe that's the point. If you give them all the answers, then you're defeating the purpose."

"Hmm…" the chaplain scratched his chin. "I hadn't considered that."

"See, no reason to call up the bishop." Jack teased.

Dago chortled, picking up his pen and scribbling down several thoughts before they were gone again, then sighed softly as he looked back at Jack. "Can I ask you a serious question?"

"Of course." Jack replied.

"What…are we?"

Jack wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Well, we're not…lovers…are we? I mean…you don't _love_ me, do you?" The chaplain's face was pink and Jack couldn't help but smile.

"I don't think I've known you long enough to say I'm in love with you. I like you, I like being around you, I like the conversations we have, I like touching you and kissing you. And I think you're good looking. Those are all good indicators of attraction, but love isn't a prerequisite. I would say that we're good friends. Friends…with benefits."

The chaplain's blush deepened. "Friends with benefits… I suppose that's acceptable."

"What would you say if I did love you?"

"I don't know." Dago said honestly. "I'm sure I'd be flattered, but…I'm not sure I would be able to reciprocate the feeling. I like you, of course; much the same way you like me, but to _love _you in that way…"

Jack could interpret the tone in which the priest spoke. A love such as that would be unspeakable and unforgiveable. And yet, the priest would allow himself to be kissed and touched and held by another man. That was a conundrum, and Jack said as much.

"Don't think I don't know that," John said softly. "This has been utterly confusing. There are layers upon layers of wrongdoing in this; I know that better than anyone."

"And yet you don't stop it." Jack said. "You're _tempted; _but exactly _what_ is tempting you, John?"

The priest's mouth opened and closed as he tried to formulate a response. What _was_ he tempted by? Dago had known there was temptation there, but he hadn't really considered what was tempting him. If it wasn't love he was feeling, what was it? He felt more and more befuddled as time passed by.

"Maybe you should think about that for a while," Jack said gently, reaching out and touching Dago's knee. "What good is talking about temptation if you have no idea what it is you're tempted by?"

"You're right." The priest said, abashed.

Jack gave Dago's knee a gentle squeeze at seeing the other man's shame. "You don't have to feel embarrassed, John. I just don't want you to get all out of sorts over something you have no clear understanding of. Besides…maybe that's part of the reason you can't get beyond the temptation…you don't really know what it is."

"Yes…I suppose you're right about that too." Dago admitted. "I thought it was the intimacy I was tempted by, and perhaps it is, but the thought of _love_ or _sex_ is…it's simply too much."

"I told you, intimacy isn't exclusive to love and sex."

"If it was, that would make this a whole lot easier."

Jack laughed and slapped Dago's knee. "Come on; I'm hungry and I don't want to eat alone."

* * *

><p>That night, Dago lay in his bunk with Jack's question rolling around in his brain. What was he tempted by? He had been able to rule out love and sex completely. He felt affections for Jack that extended beyond friendship, but it wasn't love. Not <em>that<em> kind of love, anyways. Had Hawkeye been right along? Was the temptation merely due to the desire to be close to someone? To be kissed and touched? He seriously considered this.

Just as Dago felt on the brink of an epiphany there was a swift knock on his door seconds before it flew open. "Sorry, Father; Hawkeye needs you in the OR."

Dago's brow furrowed as he sat up in his bunk and reached for his trousers. "The OR? Have more wounded come in?"

"Just one," the young orderly said. "Came in about half an hour ago."

The chaplain had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he must not have heard the jeep roll into camp, but he didn't argue as he hurriedly dressed and laced his boots, grabbing his stole and holy oil before he followed the orderly to the OR. He cast a sidelong glance towards the Swamp—the lights were out, indicating that the inhabitants were asleep.

"What time is it?"

"I dunno. 2, 2:30?"

He'd been deeper in thought that he'd realized.

Dago wrapped a mask around his ears and pushed through the OR door. "You sent for me, Hawkeye?"

"You bet your Roman collar I did, babe." Hawkeye said, up to his elbows in blood. "I'm doing the best I can, but this is going south real quick. I need one of your fixes, quick."

Dago anointed the wounded solider and began to pray over him solemnly. As he finished, he glanced down the length of the table, noting that the boy looked like ground meat from the waist down. "What happened to him?"

"Stepped on a goddamn landmine." Hawkeye answered as he furiously worked to put the boy back together. "Christ…I can't save the legs. Either of them. Kid's missing a foot on one leg and half his femur is just gone on the other leg. Like the damn thing didn't just shatter, but exploded."

Dago grimaced at the thought. "Can you save _him_?"

"Maybe."

A 'maybe' from Hawkeye was never a good prognosis and Dago redoubled his efforts in praying for both the boy and the surgeon.

When the surgery was over, the boy was listed as critical, but stable and Dago released a breath he'd been holding as he looked at the worry lines wrinkling Hawkeye's brow. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" Hawkeye said somewhat moodily as he peeled off his soiled gown and gloves. "This shit never gets easier."

"It shouldn't," Dago said after a moment's consideration. "No one should ever be desensitized to the horrors of war."

"You're right. But I'm going to go a step further and say that no one should have to suffer through the horrors of war."

"Yes…I agree."

Hawkeye headed into the washroom to clean up and Dago followed him, taking advantage of the fact that they were alone.

"Can I talk to you about something, Hawkeye?"

"Sure, babe; what's up?"

"It's about…Jack. About what you and I talked about the other day."

"Refresh my memory; what specifically?"

"About what I…liked…and why."

"Oh, that. Guess I was wrong, eh?" Hawkeye said as he grinned at Dago.

"No…well…maybe…well…I don't know." The priest finally sighed. "I think maybe you're _half_ right; that maybe I just want those things because they feel nice. But the 'who' means something to me, too. And that's where I just feel so lost."

Hawkeye finished washing his hands and sat down on one of the benches as he regarded the priest. "Are you in love with him, Dago?"

"No. I've already drawn the conclusion that this isn't about love or sex. I feel _something_ and I desire _some_ intimacy with him. Just not _that _kind of intimacy."

"What's wrong with sex?"

"Please don't make me go down the list." Dago replied incredulously.

Hawkeye guffawed. "Okay, I know what _you_ think is wrong with that, but look at it this way: what _is_ intimacy? How do you define it?"

"Well," Dago considered the question as he sat down next to Hawkeye. "I suppose intimacy—to me—is any relationship where there is a deep emotional, and physical, connection."

"Do you think it _has_ to be physical?" Hawkeye posed. "For instance, would you say you and I are intimately acquainted?"

Dago looked at Hawkeye, feeling on the verge of another epiphany.

Hawkeye laughed quietly, seeing the proverbial light click on in Dago's head. "You're welcome."

Dago blushed and laughed softly as well. "Thanks, Hawkeye."

"Don't mention it," the surgeon said, patting the chaplain's knee. "But I have a question for you now."

"What's that?"

"You don't love him, but does he love you? He seems quite fond of you."

"No, he doesn't love me. Or at least he said he didn't know me well enough yet to be in love with me. I asked him earlier what exactly we are to each other since I'm having such a hard time reconciling this, and he said that we're 'friends with benefits.'"

Hawkeye erupted into laughter, practically falling over on the bench. The priest looked at him hotly, confused by what he found so humorous. Hawkeye used the priest's arm to pull himself back upright, still laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry, babe. I don't mean to laugh, but well… it's _you_, Dago. For you to be mixed up in something like this…"

The chaplain blushed furiously, "Trust me…I know what you mean."

"Well, listen. Whatever you feel or don't feel, at least you both are on the same page and no one will get hurt, theoretically speaking. If one of you falls in love, well…that's another story. But it sounds like you both just enjoy each other's company and you're both a little lonely, and what's better than filling that loneliness with a little…you know…fun."

"'Fun' within reason." Dago corrected.

Hawkeye shrugged and patted Dago on the knee again. "I have to get back to post-op. You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah…" Dago nodded. "I think you've helped see a little clearer."

Hawkeye winked. "Finestkind."

* * *

><p>The chaplain didn't sleep at all that night, instead working out all the thoughts and revelations his conversation with Hawkeye had brought about. He understood now what the temptation was, and understanding it brought the answers he'd been seeking.<p>

As he sat outside his tent, watching the sun rise over the hills, bringing light to the new day, Dago considered his options and evaluated them carefully.

Radar appeared just outside the door of Henry's office and trumpeted the sounds of Reveille, bringing about a chorus of groans as other personnel were roused from their slumber. Dago couldn't help but laugh. His eyes automatically flicked towards the Swamp, and he could see slight movement from Jack's cot through the mosquito netting, but Duke and Trapper seemed unperturbed.

Pushing out of his chair, Dago crossed the small distance to the Swamp and quietly opened the door, slipping in just as Jack was sitting up and putting on his glasses. The blonde man smiled sleepily up at the priest.

"Up at 5:30 again?"

"Actually, I haven't slept yet." Dago said quietly. "There was a wounded soldier who came in quite early this morning and I stayed with Hawkeye while he operated."

"Everything okay?"

"For the moment." Dago answered, then cast a glance back at Duke and Trapper. "Listen, when you're awake and dressed, come over to my tent. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Sure. Give me a few minutes; I'll be right over."

Dago smiled and left the tent, returning to his own to wait.

Jack pushed his glasses up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he yawned and tried to wake himself up. Though he usually showered first thing in the morning, he was curious what the chaplain was on about, and quickly dressed and combed his hair before he headed out.

Knocking once just to signal his arrival, Jack let himself in and found Dago laying in his cot, hands folded on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. The priest's eyes shifted to Jack before a smile crossed his face and Dago sat up pointing to the desk chair. "Make yourself comfortable."

"You look quite pleased with yourself," Jack noted as he sat. "Is that just the sleep deprivation talking?"

Dago laughed slightly but shook his head. "I've spent much of the night is serious contemplation about my relationship to you and the temptation I feel."

"And you've reached a solution?"

"Of sorts, yes. More just a greater understanding of my feelings."

Jack leaned forward, intrigued and eager to hear what the priest had to say.

"I feel I must warn you that I, again, had to bounce my thoughts off of Hawkeye, so if he harasses you again, it truly is my fault."

Laughing, Jack waved him off. "He hasn't gotten under my skin yet. Don't worry about it. Tell me what's on your mind, John."

"There are several issues that have all coalesced into one and it's been difficult to separate everything out. Last night I was able to separate them in my mind and now I have a better understanding." Dago paused and ticked the first issue off of his finger. "Predominately is the issue of temptation. I realize now that I couldn't fight the temptation because I wasn't entirely sure what the temptation was. Now I see that what I'm lured by isn't sexual desire, or even the physical manifestations of attraction. What I'm tempted by is intimacy. That's the second issue."

Jack watched him tick his middle finger to keep track of his points.

"I didn't really understand, or maybe I just didn't realize, that there are different levels of intimacy. It can be an emotional bond, or a physical bond if the feelings are deep enough. For me, our relationship is a deep intellectual intimacy. We have the same interests and you engage me in conversations that no one else cares to talk about. Intelligence, to me, is alluring. It's attractive. And it's what has drawn me to you. You're witty and bright and you see me as a person first and a priest second. That means a great deal to me."

Jack continued to listen, absorbing every word.

"However, I don't feel sexual desire for you insomuch as I don't wish to have sex with you. I can admit that I do find you physically attractive and I greatly enjoy your touch and the feel of your kiss to the point that I have become…aroused, but I think what I feel is more just a generalized longing for your presence and closeness. Hawkeye told me that I like the physical intimacy simply because it is a pleasant sensation, and while I will agree with that, I think that I desire it from _you_ because of the intimacy that exists in our relationship. As Hawkeye said last night, what better way to fill the loneliness than with a little 'fun.'"

Jack couldn't help but snort in laughter. "Why doesn't that surprise me."

The chaplain smiled and offered a tiny shrug.

"So," Jack drawled, trying to fit all the pieces together. "The temptation you've been struggling with wasn't about being with me physically; it was just about being around me in general?"

"I believe so yes." Dago nodded. "It wasn't until you kissed me that the physical aspects became a problem. I realized that, before that moment, the desire to be near you was always there. The temptation to seek you out, to spend time with you, to put off doing things that needed to be done just for a few minutes of stimulating conversation. It was that kiss, though, that sparked everything else and made me aware of how strongly I felt for you, and it made me _want_ to kiss you and be kissed by you."

"Because it felt good."

"Yes."

"So if I'd never kissed you?"

"Things wouldn't be much different." Dago offered with another shrug. "There just wouldn't be the physical side of it."

Jack considered everything the priest had just said. "So what happens now?"

Dago had thought long and hard about this since reaching his epiphany, but he still took a moment to seriously consider the question. "I have reconciled my feelings and actions with my faith and beliefs. I understand the temptation and know that avoiding it doesn't mean avoiding _you_…it means delaying my gratification until my duties are done."

"And the physical part of it?" Jack asked quietly.

"While I may be splitting hairs with this, I feel that I have broken no commandments or vows." Dago's face was turning red. "It may not be appropriate, but I don't think I have a problem pursuing the physical aspects of intimacy…so long as they don't get out of hand. I'm okay with having a little…fun."

Jack smiled broadly. "And, if you change your mind, you know where to go."

A wicked grin crept onto the priest's blushing face as he jested, "To Hawkeye?"

The two men dissolved into laughter, and Dago felt lighter than he had in some time.

When they both settled back down, Jack noticed the flush in John's cheeks hadn't faded and he felt that stir of desire inside of him. He got up from the chair and moved to sit directly beside the priest, not hesitating to take his hand. "So…can I kiss you right now?"

"You don't have to ask." Dago replied shyly, feeling his heart flutter at Jack's proximity.

The doctor turned slightly to face John, smiling softly. "I'm glad you decided you're okay with this."

"Me too." Dago returned the smile.

"Just so you know…you can still say 'stop' any time." Jack whispered as he slowly closed the distance between them.

"Good to know." John whispered back just before their lips connected in a slow, sweet embrace.

* * *

><p>FIN<p>

Author's End Note: So there you have it. Probably not one of the best fics, but still a bit of fun. And there are never enough fics about Dago. I absolutely love writing the banter between Dago and Hawkeye, and the unique relationship that I've given them in several stories. I hope you enjoy it too and that you're not too disappointed that I always use Rene Auberjonois and Donald Sutherland as my Dago and Hawkeye inspirations.

Now comes some interaction with all of you... Tell me what you'd like to see written next. It can be a story about something from a previous fic, it can be something completely new, it can be something that someone else came up with that you'd like to see me write, it can be Dago and Hawkeye, or an OC, or another MASH character. It can be het or slash or simply a general fic... Whatever you want, I'll will accept the challenge and get it written. And, if you prefer me to base the characterization on William Christopher and Alan Alda, I'll be more than happy to.

Thanks for reading and commenting. I always love to see your feedback.

Respectfully,

RW


End file.
